


The Drowned City

by SorchaCahill



Series: Kirkwall Nights [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age 2
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gun Violence, I promise there will be some fluff, LLF Comment Project, Mystery, NSFW, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, alcohol use, background character relationships, depictions of war, noire detective AU, period-typical violence, shenanigans will happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-25 01:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13823913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaCahill/pseuds/SorchaCahill
Summary: Life as a private investigator has its ups and downs but Éowyn Hawke is old hat at that, it's finding the balance between work and a new love that's tricky. That balance it threatened when a killer thought long dead walks the streets of Kirkwall, leaving bodies in his wake. With the bodies starting to pile up Éowyn must search the ugliest corners of Kirkwall to find the killer. Can she find him before he finds his next victim? How will she cope if the killer slips through her fingers?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
> This is a sequel to City of Chains. I HIGHLY recommend that you read that one first before continuing. Fair warning, this does get dark and may be disturbing to some. 

Late summer in Kirkwall was a strange affair. Hot and heavy winds would sweep down from the mountains that surrounded the city and battered it for days, bringing with it heat and stirring up the waters around the city so much that it made navigating the harbor and coastline hazardous. With the way the winds howled around the buildings many in Kirkwall called the phenomenon demon winds, something that Éowyn found rather fanciful but she couldn’t begrudge native born Kirkwallians for thinking such a thing. Their first year here the winds had kept the entire Hawke family awake with Leandra complaining the most. Cramped as they were in Gamlen's tiny house in Lowtown made it all the worse. At least she and Carver had been able to come and go as they pleased; Bethany hadn’t been so lucky. She’d been trapped in the house due to her illness and the poor air quality outside made it even more difficult for her to breathe.

Of all the places in all of Thedas they could have fled to why had they come to Kirkwall?

Because Leandra had insisted and her children were too exhausted after escaping from the war to put up much of a fight. Her Uncle Gamlen had put them up for a short time after they arrived but in the end he’d been more of a hindrance than help; a lecherous creep who never met a card game he didn’t like. Éowyn wasn’t even sure where he was now and in all honesty she didn’t care. The man was a drunk and despicable human being and they were better off without him. She had kicked him out of the house after she caught him trying to steal Bethany’s medicine. It had been one of the few instances where Leandra had taken her side against her brother. Her mother had been so sure that everything would be fine once they reached Kirkwall but it had been one disappointment after another.

Éowyn shook head, trying to clear those memories from her head. She didn’t like remembering that first year they’d been in Kirkwall. So much had gone wrong and not for the first time she wondered if they’d done the right thing in fleeing Ferelden. They’d left, fleeing the war and pain only to have it follow them here to Kirkwall.

“What’s wrong?”

She glanced over her shoulder from the gun she’d been cleaning to see Sebastian walking over to her. She was supposed to be working on the paperwork she’d brought from the office but she had it set to the side and forgot about it, her brain too restless to focus on words on a page. It had been almost a month since that night at the Harimann estate and she was finally getting her office sorted back to normal, though she had yet to replace the couch. When they had returned from Starkhaven she’d had to deal with the fallout from the fire as well as trying to figure out where she was going to live. The house in Lowtown, what was left of it anyway, had been torn down, leaving an ash-stained lot in its place. She’d actually been able to salvage a few things, mostly some documents she’d kept in the fireproof safe that had been in her bedroom but overall it had been a total loss. She'd gotten a small settlement from insurance, not enough to rebuild the house but more than enough to get her by as renovations were being done to her office. After hearing what had happened, the building's super made a deal with her to expand the office into an apartment. It was an unexpected boon and she had accepted it wholeheartedly.

Her mother, once she’d gotten over her hysterics, had insisted that she stay with her during the construction, that it was only proper. Despite her many faults, Leandra was a smart woman and saw the developing relationship between her and Sebastian and she was Andrastean enough to be scandalized at the thought of her unmarried daughter living with a man, especially one that she wasn’t engaged to despite rumors to the contrary. In order to keep the uneasy peace that had formed between them she agreed with the stipulation that she be allowed to come and go as she needed without comment. That Leandra had not only agreed to Éowyn’s terms and had stuck to them spoke volumes. It helped matters that things between her mother and Quentin had cooled. In fact, in the month since she’d started living there he’d only come by once and Éowyn had had the rare pleasure of closing the door in his face after informing him that her mother wasn’t home to receive him.

“It’s nothing, just thinking about the past.”

“Anything in particular?” he asked as he stopped just behind her chair, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders as he bent down and pressed his lips to her head.

“The winds. They reminded me of our first year here. We came just before they started.”

“They’re not everyone’s cup of tea to be sure,” he said, brushing his thumbs across the nape of her neck. “Not that I mind your company of course but wouldn’t it be easier for you to not have to cart this back and forth?” he asked, nodding toward her abandoned paperwork.

“It's hard to get work done there with my mother's frowning disapproval. The remodel on the office should be done in another week or so and I can move in and be out of your hair. And my mother’s.”

“Hmm,” he said, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck. “I can’t speak for your mother but it’s no hardship for you to be here. None at all.”

“Except for the fact that you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself. Don’t you have a company to take back or something?”

“Well, yes, but we have other plans tonight,” he said before sitting in the chair next to her. He was neatly dressed in one of his linen suits, the collar undone and his tie loosened enough to give her a peak at the tanned skin that she knew he came by naturally. Her fingers itched to loosen that tie more but she forced the urge down. Maker’s breath he made her feel like a horny teenager. She thanked Andraste that she’d been able to replace her diaphragm without too much trouble; easy enough to get if you knew where to go. They’d been reckless those first few weeks and it was a relief to have the added protection of the diaphragm in addition to the rubbers he wore. An unplanned pregnancy was the last thing she needed right now.

“We? What? What plans? I don’t remember any plans,” she said, an annoyed frown marring her face.

“Perhaps we should get you a secretary so you don’t forget these things.”

“I can’t afford a secretary,” she muttered before she began reassembling her gun. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What is it?”

“Dinner. Here. With Varric.” He smiled as she scowled. “You set it up my dear. Something about trying to get him to get to know me and stop referring to me as Choir Boy.”

“Ah, hell.” She glanced at the kitchen as her scowl grew, now remembering her suggestion. Why couldn’t she have suggested going out for dinner. At least at a restaurant there would be witnesses.

Sebastian chuckled, taking up one of her gun oil greased hands and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Don’t worry my dear, you won’t be doing the cooking. Even if dinner was your idea.”

“Well, that’s something I guess.” She watched, somewhat amused as he turned her hand over and kissed the palm of her hand. “You’ll get gun oil all over that nice suit if you’re not careful.”

“I have others,” he said, kissing the inside of her wrist. Éowyn swayed, her skin tingling where his lips touched. Damn the man, he knew exactly what buttons to push to get her juices flowing.

“You should know,” she said, her breath not quite steady as he moved slowly up her arm. “Varric’s probably going to grill you about your past and anything he deems amusing. It’s just his way.”

“I think I can handle a few barbs and pointed questions. I’ve survived worse.”

“So you think.” He’d reached her elbow, his hot breath ghosting over the tender skin there. Éowyn grabbed the fabric of her pants leg with her other hand and clenched it in her fist. She would not give in to his teasing. No, she would not. “Very powerful people in this city have been known to make themselves scarce when he appears.”

Sebastian merely hummed in response before nipping at the soft skin in the crook of her elbow. Heat exploded within her as she lost it and tackled him to the ground. Their lips mashed and teeth knocked together messily as each fought for control. Éowyn had slid her leg between his as she ran her tongue up his throat. Sebastian let out a guttural sound that was barely human as he flipped them over, pressing her arms into the carpet above her head. His lips left red marks in its wake as he moved down her neck, biting at the crux where her neck met her shoulder.

Crying out, Éowyn arched into him, desperate to get closer to the heat of him. His hands had released her arms, those clever fingers of his deftly unbuttoning her shirt before she noticed. Éowyn dug her hands into his hair, holding his head close to her chest as he suckled on her nipple through her bra. He moved up her chest again, teeth pulling one the thick straps of her bra down her arm while his hand tugged down the other. She felt a pop behind her and realize that his other hand had snuck behind and unsnapped her bra. He tossed the contraption aside, leaning up slightly on his elbows with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Éowyn smiled up at him, placing her hand on his cheek before running her thumb across his bottom lip. Sebastian started to lean down when she placed her feet flat on the floor and arched up into him, knocking him off balance and onto his back. With a feral grin, she pounced on him, copying his earlier move and pressed his hands above his head.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she said, dipping down for a quick kiss. She slowly moved down his cheek, her breath the only thing touching his skin as she reached his ear. Whispering into his ear she said, “So clever with those lips and tongue and those tricky, tricky fingers. I have tricky fingers too, you know.”

Keeping her eyes on him, she moved her hand down his body, blindly undoing the buckle to his pants and pulling down the zipper before sliding her hand inside, palming him through the fabric of his boxers. Maker’s breath but he was already hot and hard. But she wasn’t done teasing yet. It seemed only fair.

With her hand lightly stroking him she pulled apart his shirt with her other hand, buttons popping off and flying around them. She leaned forward and swirled her tongue around his nipple, savoring the taste of his flesh. Greedily she moved over to the other nipple, enjoying the hiss Sebastian let out when she nipped at it.

His hand snaked through her hair and tugged. Éowyn crawled up his body, her hand still stroking him and met his mouth. She could feel her panties grow wet as they moved against each other, lips and tongues meeting. Her breasts felt heavy as they brushed against his skin, her nipples growing hard at the contact. One of his hands grabbed her ass, kneading the flesh through her slacks while the other maintained its grip on her hair, keeping her mouth within range.

Her fingers found the slit in his boxers and slid in, finally getting skin to skin contact with him. Sebastian bucked into her hand and she grinned wickedly before tugging on his earlobe with his teeth.

The world blurred and suddenly she found herself on her back, Sebastian straddling her thighs as his hands rested on her waist. Her growl was cut short as he leaned down and drew his tongue up her body starting at her belly button and ending just at the base of her neck. He repeated the movement in reverse and then back up again, this time stopping at her breasts to take one dusky rose nipple into his mouth. He tortured her just as she had him, swirling his tongue around the areola before sucking it into his mouth. Éowyn let out a hoarse cry, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she was beginning to wonder if she was going to lose this game.

It seemed like his hands and mouth were everywhere at once. One minute he was suckling at her breast, the next he was whispering into her ear all the things he wanted to do with her, and the next his tongue was dipping into her belly button. She was certain that she had soaked completely through her panties now and it was spreading through to her slacks.

His fingers flicked open the fasteners to her slacks and slid them along with her panties down her legs, his mouth following their path. Éowyn squirmed under him as his fingers danced across her skin, tracing the taut muscles of her thighs until he reached the apex of her legs. There he paused, fingers so close to her core, caressing the skin of her inner thigh. She snapped her head up, eyes burning with need.

“What are you stopping for?” she demanded, attempting to wriggle her hips but he essentially had her pinned down. An unbidden howl of frustration let loose from her as he drew a single digit just outside the edge of her folds. He raised an eyebrow at her even as he gave her a wicked grin of his own. If anyone had told her all those months ago when she first met him that he was capable of this she would have called them a damned liar. Never was she so glad to be wrong.

“You want me to continue then, _mo chridhe_?”

“You damn well better, you bastard.”

“You say the sweetest things to me,” he said, circling his finger up over her mound, drawing tantalizingly close and yet not quite there. Éowyn’s hips bucked against him, desperate for him to touch her. Sebastian tutted and spread her legs open wide, using one hand to hold her hips down. Finally he drew his finger along her inner folds and she cried out from the touch, her back arching as she nearly came.

“I love how sensitive you are,” he said as he slid his fingers through her wetness, exploring her folds with experienced hands. “Is it hubris to think that only I can draw such responses out of you?”

“I believe a better word is arrogant,” she panted.

“Hmm, you could be right.” His fingers found her clit, drawing small, tight circles around it as she came with a wail. Stars burst behind her eyes even as his fingers continued to move. He bent down and captured her mouth, kissing her deeply as he sank a finger into her, another quickly following before he slowly pumped them in and out. She met each thrust even as she started to crest again. Just as she was about to come again he withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, licking her juices from them. “You taste quite lovely. I could feast on you for days.”

“Oh, Maker.”

“Not quite,” he chuckled as he kissed her briefly, leaving her with the taste of herself on her lips before he moved down her body and placed his mouth where his fingers had so recently been. Éowyn gripped his hair to hold him in placed as his tongue fucked her and her body wound up again, ready to burst.

He drew his tongue up and sucked on her clit, his fingers entering her again, setting a steady and slow pace that built her up until she felt like she was going to explode. His name echoed throughout the room when she came again, her entire body quivering and in a far, dim corner of her mind she wondered if she’d ever walk straight again.

She lay there, her breath coming out in streams and sweat coating her body as she heard him shuck off his pants. A thought came to mind and she put her foot on his chest before he could move onto her.

“I don’t have my diaphragm.”

“I know. I came prepared.” He leaned back and fished a rubber out of his pants pocket. Éowyn sat up and took it from him, carefully opening the packet with trembling hands. He knelt before her, his cock straining as she took him in hand. It twitched as she rolled the rubber down over him. Once it was on he followed her to the floor, the tip of his cock brushing her entrance. Impatient, she reached down and guided him in, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he filled her.

Together they moved, slow at first but the pace increased quickly. For just as he had teased her, she had teased him to the point where he was straining. His thrusts grew stronger and she lifted her hips to meet each one. He kissed her roughly before pulling back onto his knees, keeping himself sheathed inside her and gripped her hips hard as he slammed into her. This new angle hit that deep spot within her pushing her over the edge again and her hands scrambled for something to hold onto. One of them blindly landed on a leg of the table and she held on with everything she had as he thrust harder and deeper, grunting with each one. There was a roaring in her ears as her orgasm continued to crash over her and she heard him yell out her name.

She lay there dazed when he collapsed on top of her, pressing his lips to the pulsing vein in her neck. Her limbs were so spent that she couldn’t even move them to gather him in. Closing her eyes she waited until the thumping of her heart slowed and the sweat on her skin cooled.

“Sebastian,” she said after a long time. When his only answer was a soft grunt she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “Sebastian,” she said again.

“Yes, _mo chridhe?_ ”

“I don’t think I can move. Even if a great lump of man wasn’t laying on top of me right now, I don’t think I can move. Ever. You might have broken me.”

A low chuckle emanated from him before he said, “I fear we’re in the same boat, for I don’t think I can move either. You might have broken me as well.”

“Well, as long as we’re on the same page then. Although, I will note for the record that it was you that started this.”

“I will gladly take credit.”

Éowyn snorted. This had definitely been one of their more intense love making sessions and she couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten into him.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not my birthday today.”

“What?”

“It’s not my birthday and it’s not Santinalia, so I’m wondering what I did to deserve such a gift.”

Sebastian finally mustered up enough energy to push himself up. He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her face before kissing her softly. “Do we need a special occasion?”

“No, but that was... well, I don’t know that I really have words for what just happened.”

“In the old days in Starkhaven I believe they called it a claiming.”

Éowyn gave him a disbelieving look. “A claiming? Seriously?”

He shrugged, pulling them over so that she rested on his chest. “Like I said, it was the old days.”

“Well, I certainly do feel claimed if that’s what you were aiming for. Do you? Feel claimed that is?”

“Ah, _mo chridhe_ , you claimed me from the minute I walked into your office.”

Éowyn buried her face in his chest, still not used to such sentimental words but she’d take them all them same even if she didn’t always respond.

“We’re going to have to get up, you know,” she said after a while. “You have a dinner to make I seem to remember.”

“How about a shower first and then I can start dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Just as soon as I can move. Which will be any minute now, I swear.”

Sebastian laughed softly and wrapped his arms around her, holding her loosely in his arms. “Right behind you.”

~~~

Éowyn was just setting the table when the doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock she swore. He was early. Of course he was early. It was a common tactic of his as it tended to put people off balance. Sebastian was just putting the final touches on dinner, whatever it was. He’d shooed her out of the kitchen when she proved more of a nuisance because she kept eating his food. She put the blame solely on his shoulders as he had initiated that afternoon’s activities and now she was ravenous.

Wiping her hands she headed toward the door, sending up a little prayer that this evening would go smoothly. She really didn’t want to play referee between her best friend and her... boyfriend? She paused at the thought. The word seemed too simple to describe what he was to her but for lack of anything else to call him it would have to do.

Opening the door she gave Varric an appraising eye. In one hand he held a bottle of wine of questionable vintage, in the other a paper bag. She raised an eyebrow at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

“If I let you in are you going to behave?”

“Hawke, I’m wounded. I promise to be on my very best behavior. Here, I bring gifts.”

Éowyn took the two bottles of wine from him, frowning as she read the label. “This is Ferelden wine. How in the world did you get this?”

Varric shrugged as he followed her inside. “I have my connections.” He held up the bag. Éowyn sniffed and inhaled the warm scent of sugar and pastry.

“You stopped at Bodhan’s? Is this a bribe?”

“Only if it works.”

“Depends if you brought the chocolate cream ones.”

“What do you think?”

Éowyn snatched the bag from him and motioned for him to come in. It was a strange feeling, holding a dinner like this. Though she’d had her friends over for dinner before, dinners that had lasted late into the night fueled mainly by one form of alcohol or another and several games of Wicked Grace, this was different. She’d never had dinner with her friends as a part of a couple before. It was a new experience for her and she found herself strangely nervous.

Sebastian was coming out of the kitchen as they entered the dining room, wiping his hands on a towel. A lock of his hair had fallen over his forehead, giving him a slightly roguish look. Her mouth went slightly dry at the sight of him and she silently cursed herself. Hadn’t she gotten enough of him earlier? She really needed to get her hormones under control.

“Varric, good to see you, you’re just in time. Dinner’s just about ready. And I see you’ve brought some wine. I’ll grab some glasses.”

“Wait, you did the cooking. Oh thank the Maker, I wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable food poisoning.”

Éowyn glared at him. “That was one time and you survived you big baby.”

“Barely.”

“Oh shut up and sit down so we can eat.”

~~~

After dinner they lingered at the table, drinking the excellent Ferelden wine Varric had brought. Éowyn looked at the two men over the rim of her glass, marveling that the evening had gone so smoothly. She had half expected Varric to poke holes at Sebastian just for the sheer fun of it.

“So, Sebastian, did Hawke hear ever tell you about her first really big case?”

“Varric,” Éowyn started, only to be waved off by him. She pressed her lips together and let him speak.

“It’s okay, Hawke, really. You see, she and her brother had just started their business, having left the servitude of Meeran’s outfit. Private security, or at least that’s how he billed himself. Anyway, they’d just started and were getting piddly little cases. Cheating spouses, surveillance, retrievals, things like that,” he paused, taking a sip of wine. “So they’re up in Hightown, right? Tracking down some punk causing trouble, selling knockoffs of some Orzammar pottery when this kid, some scruffy looking thing, brushes past them and swipes her wallet.”

“He what?” Sebastian looked at her incredulously. Éowyn nodded, confirming Varric’s statement. It was embarrassing, remembering that but she’d definitely learned to keep a closer eye about even in Hightown. In Lowtown she would have expected it and been more on guard.

“I know. Cheeky bastard didn’t know who he was dealing with. I’m sitting in a cafe across the street from all this, spot the kid making the pull and boy was it sloppy. I still don’t know how you didn’t feel it Hawke.”

“I caught on pretty quick if memory serves,” she grumbled, taking a long drink from her glass. She remembered that day well, mainly because neither Varric nor Carver would let her forget it. Owen, the little shit, hadn’t had his sticky fingers on her wallet for long. She’d snagged him pretty quick, wasn’t hard to miss him with that curly mop of red hair of his. He’d struggled but went pale when he realized who held him. Between that and her threatening to tell his mother, it was one of the last wallets that he had tried to lift. The kid had been so terrified at the thought of his mother finding out that he fell in line. She’d made sure of it by giving him so many errands that he didn’t have time to lift wallets.

“Well, yeah, and then you went all soft on the little bugger. Still have him running errands for you.”

“Hey, if it keeps his hands busy and out of people’s pockets who are you to judge?”

“Not judging, just setting the scene as it were.”

“Exposition bores people Varric. They’d rather get to the action.”

Varric made a disgruntled noise as he set down his wine. “Fine. I did some asking around, found out who they were and mentioned it to my nug-humping bastard of a brother Bartrand, who seemed very interested in obtaining their services for one of his ventures.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “I take it then that you’re not on good terms with your brother.”

“Oh fuck no. We tolerated each other as kids and as we got older we tolerated each other less and less. Just too different I guess. He was a greedy, self-absorbed asshole and that’s what got him killed. At least I assume he’s dead.”

“Assume? You don’t know?”

“He’s been, I guess missing is the best way to put it, for the last three years. Seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet.”

“I’m sorry.”

Varric waved away Sebastian’s sympathies. “Ah, he brought it on himself, the bastard. I’d be less mad if he hadn’t almost gotten me, Hawke, and Junior killed.”

“Junior?”

“Oh that’s just Varric’s pet name for Carver. Drives my brother nuts. Just about everyone who crosses Varric’s path gets a nickname. I’m not sure if it’s just because he can’t be bothered to remember names or if he just delights in annoying people with them.”

“That would explain Choir Boy then, I suppose.”

“Well, it _did_. Still does for the most part. What happened with the Harimanns, well, yeah, might have to adjust it seeing as you’re not as boring as I thought.”

Éowyn spit out her wine, grabbing a napkin and wiping off her chin as she glared at Varric. And here the evening was going so well and she had thought he was going to behave herself.

“Maker’s balls, Varric.”

“What? Do you want me to lie? I can do that but it’s not nearly enough fun.”

“So what’s Éowyn’s nickname?”

Both Éowyn and Varric stared at him and then at each other. Shrugging, Éowyn drank her wine glass and waited for her friend to respond.

“She doesn’t have one. She’s just Hawke.”

“Then why not call her Éowyn if you don’t have a nickname for her?” Sebastian seemed genuinely curious. Éowyn supposed that in recent years nicknames hadn’t really been a part of his life. The Chantry was so regimented in many things and insisted on being so proper. She really didn’t know how he stood it.

“I, well, I suppose I could but that would be weird after all this time.”

“Definitely weird,” she agreed.

“But we’re not here to discuss nicknames, as fun as that is.”

“Quite. I assume that Éowyn and her brother were able to assist your brother in his venture?”

Varric scowled. “You could say that. That nug-humping bastard of a brother of mine was obsessed with a statue. Claimed it was an artifact from ancient Orzammar. I told him he was full of shit but he wouldn’t let it go. I thought that by hiring Hawke here to look into it she’d be able to debunk the claims and I could get on with my life in peace.”

“I take it that’s not what happened?”

“Oh I was able to verify its existence. The statue was the real deal. It was what happened afterward that caused the problem.”

“And what problem was that?” Sebastian asked.

Varric leveled him a look, a sober look on his face. “It drove him mad. Enough that he tried to kill all of us.”

Éowyn took another swallow of wine, a large one this time. Frowning at her emptying glass she went to refill it only to realize the bottle was empty. She caught Sebastian’s gaze, saw the concern written on his face and sighed.

“If I’m going to tell this story we’re going to need more wine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to thank Penthesilea1623 who has been an awesome cheerleader and person to bounce ideas of and is also an amazing writer herself. You should totally check out her stuff here on AO3.
> 
> First, Subsection A: You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com. There be nerdy shit there. :)
> 
> Second, Also, trying something new here cause I know it's been going the rounds. This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (longlivefeedback.tumblr.com), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder) Please note: this is NOT meant to pressure you into commenting. Think of it as more a guide if you’re curious. If you do happen to leave a comment I will respond. Though if you prefer that I don’t reply, for any reason, just sign your comment with *whisper* and I’ll do a happy dance but not respond. Thanks in advance! :) 



	2. Chapter 2

_ Three years ago… _

“Are you sure about this? I mean, I know Varric’s a friend and all, but this seems sketchy even for us.”

“Come on Carver, we complete this job and we can replace that abomination of a couch in the office. Maybe even get a fan. Fans are good. This city is too damn hot.”

“Don’t disparage my couch. It’s perfect.”

“Perfectly horrible you mean. I don’t know how you can sleep on it.”

“Easily. I don’t have your delicate constitution.”

“Delicate constitution my ass. Did you remember to bring the lock picks?”

“Did I remember the lock picks? Do I look like an idiot?” Carver asked, his jaw tightening slightly.

“Well-.”

“You probably don’t want to finish that sentence.”

“You are no fun, you know that?”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“Ugh, fine, you absolute flat tire,” Éowyn grumbled. She sincerely hoped that one of these days Carver would get the stick out of his ass but she had serious doubts that day would ever come. At the same time, she wasn’t stupid. She knew he felt like he lived in her shadow which was beyond stupid. With Bethany gone he was their mother’s favorite, especially seeing as Leandra was intent on blaming her for Bethany’s death.

She stepped out of the car and into the sweltering heat. Sweat immediately began pooling on her along her spine. It was times like this when she really missed the cool evenings of Ferelden. Rounding the car to the trunk she popped it open and surveyed the equipment inside. Bartrand had been light on the details as to what they could expect in the caverns below. How he even knew that the statue was down there was an even bigger mystery, one he wasn’t keen on sharing. She didn’t like going into things blind. People tended to get hurt. Or worse.

“Are you sure we’re going to need this stuff? It’s a lot to carry,” Carver said as he hauled out a bag.

“You’re a strapping young lad, you can handle it,” she said slapping him on the shoulder as she grabbed the other bag and slung it over her shoulder. “We don’t know what we’re going to face down there and I like to be prepared.”

“You don’t have a plan, do you?”

“I totally have a plan. What do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question?”

“Oh shut up.”

Éowyn slammed down the lid to the trunk, more forcibly than she probably should have. The sound of it echoed down the street. She paused, listening, and when no one came to investigate the noise she let out a sigh of relief. 

“What the fuck is this?”

Éowyn looked up at Carver’s growled statement to see both Varric and Bartrand standing on the sidewalk. She silently echoed Carver’s statement when she saw the brothers. Why were they here? A so-called businessman and a reporter had no business being here, and had, in fact promised to stay away. She and Carver were technically breaking and entering even though the warehouse had been abandoned and for them to associate themselves this closely, it was reckless.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” she hissed as she crossed the street. Varric put his hands up in surrender and rolled his eyes at Bartrand. Éowyn had to bite back a sigh. She should have known that Bartrand wouldn’t just let them do their job. 

“Keeping an eye on my investment, Miss Hawke. You honestly didn’t think I was just going to let a couple of Lowtown lowlifes just waltz in there and take it, did you?”

“What my asshole of a brother is trying to say is that he’s very eager to finally get what he’s been searching for for so many years and is  _ grateful _ for your assistance in this matter. Aren’t we, Brother?”

“I don’t need you to speak for me, Varric.”

“You might want to listen to him, Bartrand. Insulting people who are doing your dirty work isn’t good business. Or so I hear. My brother and I aren’t so strapped for cash that we won’t walk off this job and leave you without your precious statue. In fact, I’m actually starting to feel a bit peckish. How about you Carter?”

“I could eat,” he shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or the other. 

“I think The Hanged Man’s still open. I could use a sandwich.”

“I hear Corff’s got those meatballs of his on the menu again.”

“Really? Well then, I think that settles that. Shall we?” Éowyn turned to leave, biting back a smile when she saw Varric cover his mouth in a poor attempt to smother his laughter. Bartrand’s face flushed bright red, anger at her flippant behavior boiling to the surface and he looked like he was about to explode, which was just fine with Éowyn. The only reason she’d taken this job in the first place was because Varric had asked them. The alleged payout wasn’t anything to sneeze at but since leaving Meeran’s employ they were trying to keep their business legitimate. This business with the statue was skirting that line very closely.

“Now wait just a damned minute, just wait.”

Éowyn stopped just as she stepped off the curve and turned around. Bartrand had stepped out of the shadows, his face a thundercloud and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I don’t think that you actually can afford to walk away Miss Hawke. You may think that you can do without the eventual payday but your reputation,” he paused, clucking his tongue. “If it were to get out about your association with Meeran, well, who would hire you then? Afterall, you are just a couple of Ferelden refugees, you already have that going against you.”

“You bastard,” Carver growled. Éowyn grabbed Carver’s arm as he started to lunge forward. Her own blood was starting to boil but she tamped it down. Now was not the time to lose her temper.

“Bartrand, you ass,” said Varric as he stepped into his brother’s space, poking at his chest. “No one else would help you find the statue and now you’re going to insult the only people who agreed to this ridiculous venture? I’m beginning to regret introducing them to you. I suggest you apologize if you really want that statue.”

A tense silence fell in the street as the two brothers glared each other down. As much as she would love to see Bartrand get laid out on the ground for being an all-around ass it would attract too much attention. They were already risking being spotted by being in the open this long. Bartrand finally broke his brother’s gaze but she could still see the anger simmering underneath. If this went forward she would have to step carefully with him. 

“I’m sorry if you took offense to my words,” Bartrand growled out, his jaw tight. “I have waited years for this opportunity and I’m not about to let it slip through my fingers.” Éowyn pursed her lips at his non-apology. Despite what she had told him, they really did need the money. Was she going to let her pride turn it down? Apparently not.

“Let’s get going, but-.”

“Éowyn, what are you doing? This asshole isn’t worth all this.”

“ _ But _ ,” she said, shooting a quick glare at Carter for interrupting her, “make no mistake Bartrand, I’m only doing this because Varric asked me to. If it weren’t for him you’d find my fist in your face and my boot up your ass. Let’s go.”

Éowyn moved to the shadows and slid into the alleyway next to the warehouse. She and Carver had scouted out the area before and she may or may not have gone into the city planner’s office to sneak a peek at the building plans, so they had a rough idea of what was waiting for them inside. Once they got under the warehouse and into the tunnels though they would have to rely on maps that dated back at least fifty years and there was no telling what condition they were in. 

They stopped at the side door to the warehouse, a single yellow lamp painting it in an ugly glow. Determined not to take that as a bad omen Éowyn glanced over her shoulder at Carver and flashed him a smile.

“Well, here’s goes nothing.”

***

“Wait, you broke into a warehouse to retrieve some statue that you weren’t even sure was there?”  The look on Sebastian’s face was more than a little incredulous and slightly scandalized. Éowyn caught Varric rolling his eyes and kicked him under the table and gave him a hard stare. 

“What?”

Éowyn ignored him and addressed Sebastian instead. “You could say that, yes. We went in with the best information we could dig up and we  _ did _ find the statue,” she paused. “Getting it out was another story.”

Varric snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“It means that my brother is a lying, cheating bastard and I hope he rots in hell.”

***

Éowyn had lost track of time since they entered the caves. The warehouse had been pretty straightforward. It was like every other warehouse in Kirkwall, rats and all. The tunnels and caves underneath were a different story. Most of the warehouses in Kirkwall were connected to the tunnels that ran underneath the city but these tunnels went deeper and into an older part of the tunnel system. If Éowyn was forced to guess she’d say that these tunnels were built well over a hundred years ago. Maybe even longer. How in the hell did Bartrand know that the statue was down here? Judging from the undisturbed dust no one had been down here in decades.

Carver coughed next to her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glanced down at it, grimacing as he wiped it on his pants. The longer they were down here to more irritated he was getting and the closer he was getting to losing his temper. Not that she could blame him as she wasn’t far behind but she just couldn’t give up. They needed the money if they wanted to dig out of the hole they were in.

Something rumbled overhead, causing a small shower of dirt to rain down upon them. She heard Bartrand swear behind them and took no small amount of displeasure in his discomfort. The more time she spent with the man the less she like him and the more she wondered how it was possible that he and Varric were related. He was a pompous ass with an overinflated sense of self-importance. It crossed her mind briefly to screw him over and take the statue for herself but she quickly determined that would only cause them more problems.

“How much farther is it? Wait, better question, do you even know where we’re going? These maps are essentially useless.” The farther they went the more disgruntled Carver got. It crossed Éowyn’s mind that if something turned just the right way that he would lose his temper and lash out at someone. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t that far behind. The longer they were down here the more she was beginning to believe that this was the worst idea she’d ever had.

“Seeing as these tunnels have been abandoned for years I think we’re lucky that we have what we have,” she said, then lowered her voice so only Carver could hear her. “But if we don’t find something soon I’m calling it. I don’t fancy spending the rest of my life trapped down here, I don’t care how big the payout is.”

“On that we are agreed.”

“Damn skippy.” Carver laughed in response, chuckling as he ducked under a low hanging doorway.

“I’m glad the two of you are so flippant about this venture. I didn’t realize that I was hiring a couple of comedians. I would have thought you would take your job more seriously.”

“Bartrand if I took everything as seriously as you I’d have to go home and rethink my life choices.”

Bartrand didn’t respond but Éowyn thought that if she listened close enough she would be able to hear him grind his teeth. The earth shuddered above them again, bits of dirt falling from the ceiling. 

“We must be under the trolley line. That or that big one the science guys keep predicting is about to happen.”

“Don’t even joke about that Hawke, not while we’re still down here. I don’t need images of us trapped under hundreds of pounds of dirt in my head.”

“Oh don’t be such a drama queen Varric. Unless we get lucky with an air pocket, we’ll be crushed to death long before we suffocate.”

“Well that’s encouraging.”

“Shut up, all of you. Look. That looks promising, very similar to what my source described.” Bartrand gestured toward a heavy door just ahead. Éowyn eyed it as they approached. It was solid enough, so much that it was going to take quite a bit of leverage to get it open if those hinges were as rusted as they seemed. Without much hope she tugged on the door on the off chance that the last people here had neglected to lock it. The thing didn’t budge even a little.

“You didn’t really think that would work, did you?”

Éowyn shrugged. “It was worth a shot but we brought backup just in case,” she said as she shrugged off her pack, setting it on the ground before opening it.

“Backup? What do you mean backup?” demanded Bartrand. Éowyn flashed him a wicked smile as she pulled out small green block that fit in the palm of her hand. Carver choked back a laugh as Bartrand frowned at what Éowyn held before comprehension dawned on him.

“You cannot blow up this door. I forbid it.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Bartrand. Everything blows up. I only need to use a small amount directed at the hinges and we’ll be in. I’ve done it a dozen times before. Easy peasy.”  When Bartrand’s face took on a distressing color of purple she sighed, setting the explosive aside before reaching back into the bag and pulling out the crowbar. “Fine. Surely you have no objection to this?” she asked before him handing it to Carver. 

“So I’m here for the heavy work?” he asked as he begrudgingly took the crowbar from her.

“Well, you’re not here for your looks, brother dear. You’re option B since plan A was vetoed by the elder Tethras here.”

“Dammit Hawke, I knew I should have brought my recorder. Or at least a notebook or something. I can’t make this shit up.”

“I’m not giving you the rights to my life story Varric.”

“What if I said pretty please?”

“Just get the damned door open already. I’ve waited long enough.”

Éowyn clenched her fists as Carver worked on the door, counting back from ten in her head and then counting again. If she never saw Bartrand again after this it would be too soon. Now that they had navigated the tunnels she was really beginning to question why Bartrand had bothered to hire them at all. It was obvious the man had inside knowledge on the statue and its whereabouts, so beyond her and Carver breaking into the city planner’s office why exactly did he need them? An itch began to grow in the back of her mind, becoming more persistent as time passed. 

As Carver finally broke the lock and opened the door a thought ran through her head:  _ I have a bad feeling about this. _

Bartrand pushed past her brother in his eagerness to get his prize. Éowyn shot Varric a glance, the ball in the pit of her stomach growing. Her friend merely shrugged, so used to his brother’s rudeness that his behavior was nothing new. They followed him inside and found a large room covered in dust and cobwebs. Bartrand was already digging into crates, tossing the packing hay out around him, heedless of the mess he was making. Éowyn walked over to one corner where a stack of cloth-covered frames lay against the wall. She pulled one off, coughing over the dust she had disturbed before looking at what she had uncovered. Before her was a canvas with a landscape of Sundermount, dark clouds hanging over the peak and obscuring it from view. The mountain loomed over the city below, casting it in shadow. A shiver ran through her as she studied it. There was something about it that caused dread to crawl up her spine. 

“What did you fin-, oh, well, that’s disturbing.” Varric came up behind her to stand at her side and studied the painting with her. “Judging by the wear on the frame and the fading I’d guess this is at least twenty years old, probably more.”

“Since when are you an art expert?”

“You’ll find that I am a man of many talents.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, tilting the painting forward, bracing it against her thigh as she looked at the next painting. It was just as grim as the first one, this one depicting The Gallows. Again dark shadows stretched across the canvas but the artist had added people to this one, gaunt beings with looks of despair that looked more like ghosts than people.

“I’m sensing a theme here. And not a good one.”

“Yeah. Though it’d go well with some of the shitty Tevinter decorations I’ve seen around. I swear Varric, this city is one of the most depressing places I’ve ever lived and I was in Ferelden during the war. Is it something in the water?”

“Probably. Not sure. Makes for a good story though.” He leaned over and ticked back another painting, this one larger than the others. “Andraste’s mercy, what the hell is that?”

Éowyn felt bile rise in her throat as she viewed the third painting. It showed one of the open plazas in Kirkwall, she didn’t recognize which one, in where the people on the street looked normal at first glance. When you looked closer though you could see an underlying terror in their expressions. A mother was leaning over a baby carriage, seemingly attempting to calm the child until you saw that her hand was around the baby’s neck. Children played a game of tag in one corner, ignorant of the dark shadow looming in the corner watching them. Looking closer Éowyn saw a nurse pushing their charge in a wheelchair down the sidewalk and if you looked at it just right it looked like the nurse was about to push them into the busy street. The artist first presented the viewer with a surface view of Kirkwall but then revealed the darker side to it; subtly at first but ripped away that veil with the scene painted beneath the street.

Demons and fire filled the bottom half the painting. People screamed in terror and pain as they suffered under the cruel hands of their jailers. Éowyn forced the bile in her throat down as she realized that the people depicted below were the same ones on the street. Blood poured from their wounds, painting the floor a violent crimson as the demons, their masks now removed, pulled them apart piece by piece. Men, women, children, they all suffered under the demons’ hands, their dead eyes staring out from the painting.

“I’m going to need therapy after this.”

“Or a couple of stiff drinks. How could someone paint something like this?”

“They apparently had definite opinions about Kirkwall and her people.”

Éowyn snorted. “I guess that’s one way to look at it. The fact that they’re languishing away down in these catacombs would indicate that the artist, whomever they are, wasn’t able to find a venue for their work.”

Varric cocked his head. “I can’t decide if it’s more creepy with all the yellow varnish on it or not. I’d bet that if someone restored this to its original state it’d be even creepier.”

“No bet.”

“You’re no fun.”

“On the contrary, not making that be is a practical and logical decision.”

“What the hell are you two doing? You should be help-. What the fuck is that?”

The horror in Carver’s voice overwrote his annoyance. His jaw went slack as he took in the horrifying scene depicted on the canvas.

“The work of a talented if somewhat disturbed mind. I know of at least three collectors who would pay good money for this.”

“It’s an abomination. Why would anyone want this? Why would anyone  _ paint _ this?”

“Oh come now, Carver. Every artist uses their view of the world, how they experience it and puts it into their work.” Varric glanced back at the painting. “Granted, this is a bit on the extreme side.”

A shout rose up from across the room, interrupting their conversation. All of of them turned to see Bartrand pulling out an object from one of the crates. With reverence he peeled away the cloth shrouding the object. Éowyn stepped closer, curious to see exactly what had put the bug up Bartrand’s ass. When he pulled back the last of the cloth she couldn’t quite describe what she felt.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.  _ That _ is what you’ve been so obsessed about? A fucking nug statue?”

Bartrand looked up, clutching the statue closer to him, a wild look entering his eyes. “I would expect an uncultured dog lord to understand. This statue is worth more than your life, more than all of your lives.”

“It’s a hunk of stone depicting a glorified sewer rat. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Bartrand, brother, you’ve gone completely mad.”

“What do you know about it, Varric? Don’t think I haven’t seen you lurking about, edging your way in. You want this for your own.”

Shock filled Varric’s face and it took him a moment to gather his words, something that Éowyn knew didn’t happen very often. “You think  _ I _ want that useless hunk of junk? Bartrand, brother, you don’t know me at all. I’ve done just as much research on that thing as you and you know what I’ve found? Death. Death Bartrand. Everywhere that thing goes it brings death. It’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it? Not  _ worth it? _ ” Bartrand reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. “I’ve spent  _ years _ looking for this statue. I’m not going to let you take it from me.”

“Whoa now, just put the gun down, Bartrand. There’s no need to get violent over this. We’re all reasonable people here,” Éowyn said, slowly edging to the side so that she stood slightly in front of Varric. 

“Oh, Miss Hawke, you truly don’t get it, do you? This statue is more precious to me than all your lives and I’m done talking.” Before Éowyn could respond, Bartrand fired off several shots. She dove behind some crates, shoving Varric to the ground before her. Bullets flew overhead and she covered her head with her hands and bits of wood rained down upon her. There was a grunt of pain behind her followed quickly by a body crashing into the wooden crates. Éowyn looked up in time to see Carver laying amongst the ruins of a crate, packing straw strewn about and a dark red stain blooming on his leg. Carver clutched the wound and swore viciously and she had to force back the urge to run over to him. Bartrand’s gun had to be out of bullets soon but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have more to reload. 

“Carver, stay down,” she yelled over the gunfire.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing? Tap dancing?”

She bit back a retort and cursed herself for not arming herself before they came down into the catacombs. It had been a rookie mistake, possibly a deadly one. One she wouldn’t have made a couple of years ago, but she had become complacent with this job. Falsely assuming that because it was Varric’s brother they were dealing with that firearms wouldn’t be necessary.

She hated being wrong.

There was a pause in the gunfire. Éowyn counted to ten and waited, listening intently in the sudden silence. Hoping that she was right in that Bartrand hadn’t thought to bring extra bullets. When the firing didn’t resume, she peeked her head over the crate and quickly spotted Bartrand backing out the door. In one hand he cradled the statue, in the other he held the C4 she had set down earlier when he had protested her using it to open the door.

She started to stand up when Bartrand shot off another round. It went wide, ploughing into the crate behind her but it had the desired effect as she ducked back down behind the crate, pressing her back into it. Varric sat next to her, sweat dripping down his face.

“Just what do you think you’re going to do with the C4, Bartrand. You can’t throw it like dynamite and expect things to blow up.”

“I’m not an idiot, Hawke. You left this lovely bag out here with a detonator. I think I can figure it out. Enjoy your tomb. You’ll be buried like those royals in Nevarra, entombed forever with their riches.”

“Bartrand, don’t be an ass. Let us out of here.”

Another bullet slammed into the crate they were hiding behind, stopped by whatever it contained. Éowyn looked over at Carver who had ripped off one of his sleeves and was using it as a makeshift tourniquet and bandage. That would work for awhile, depending on how bad the wound was, but he would need medical attention soon.

The door screeched as Bartrand pulled it closed. Éowyn stood up and raced toward the door, yanking on it in a desperate attempt to get it open, calling herself ten kinds of stupid for letting the situation get out of hand. She pounded on the door, yelling at Bartrand to let them out but all she could hear was him laughing on the other side.

And then, dimly, “Better stand back in there. You’ve got maybe thirty seconds before this thing blows.”

“Maker damn you, Bartrand,” she yelled pounding on the door again. She was about grab the crowbar Carver had dropped to the side when they had entered when Varric grabbed her arm and pulled her back behind the crates for cover just as the world exploded. Éowyn covered her head with her arms, praying that the explosion wouldn’t bring the ceiling down on them. Dirt and rock fell down on them, one particularly sharp rock struck the side of her head causing her vision to grey out briefly. Her ears were still ringing as the dust settled and she carefully stood up and looked at their only exit. Or what was left of their only exit. Now it was a pile of rock, dirt, and more, and without some heavy equipment, they weren’t getting out of here anytime soon.

“Varric, it’s official. I hate your brother.”

“Get in line.” Varric looked over at Carver and grimaced. “I’m sorry, Hawke. I never should have dragged you into this.”

“No one drags me into anything. You should know that by now.”

“You two are hilarious and everything but I’m kind of bleeding over here.”

Éowyn swore as she rushed over to her brother. Blood soaked his pants leg but it wasn’t gushing, small mercy. “How bad is it?”

Carver grunted as he shifted to sit up more. “Bastard caught me on the outside of my leg. Don’t think the bone got hit but it’s going to be a bitch to get out of here,” he paused, looking around the room. “That is if we can find a way out of here. Your asshole brother blew up our only exit.”

“I’m tempted to say he’s adopted but sadly there’s proof he’s not,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back at the now rubble filled exit. “So, how exactly are we going to get out of here?”

“As quickly as possible. Carver needs a doctor.”

“Yeah,” said Carver, resting his head back against the wall, grimacing as he shifted. “Some pain killers would be nice.”

“I’ll get right on that after we find a way out of here. I refuse to die like this,” Éowyn said as she checked Carver’s makeshift bandage. Her hands came away bloody and she had to force the anxiety the slid down her spine. Blood she could handle. Her brother’s blood so soon after Bethany’s death was another matter. “I refuse to let you die down here either.”

“Aw, you do care.”

“Shut up and just lie there while I try to find a way out. Varric stay here and make sure he doesn’t move.”

Éowyn moved away before either of them could respond. They’d only covered about a third of the room before Bartrand had found the statue and blown up the door, so there was a possibility that there was a way out. She moved around the crates, heading toward the back of the storeroom. Considering Kirkwall’s history of smuggling there was a possibility that there was a secret exit to this room. For that sake of her brother’s life there had to be.

She was passing by the stack of paintings they had been looking at earlier when she felt a cool draft. Stepping closer she spotted a small hole in the wall she hadn’t noticed before and was pretty sure  _ hadn’t _ been there before Bartrand had tried to bury them. She reached up a hand and poked her fingers into the hole. The stone around the hole gave way, causing the hole to widen enough that she was able to push her arm in up to her elbow. Removing it, she nearly ran back to where the crowbar had fallen and picked it up, ignoring the questions both Carver and Varric hurled at her. Back at the wall, she jerked back the paintings, letting them fall to the floor as she lifted the crowbar and began hitting the wall. Bits of rock and mortar fell to the floor, sending plumes of dust into the air. Éowyn nearly choked on the dusty air but didn’t stop hitting the wall. 

Her arms were starting to burn as time passed but she didn’t stop her assault, taking it down brick by brick. No light came from the other side and the meager light of the storeroom barely went past the threshold but the draft she had felt earlier was stronger now. Sweat dripped down her face and spine, coating her body by the time she had widened that small hole into a gap that was big enough for her to fit through. Her chest heaving from the exertion, she finally stopped, the crowbar still gripped tightly in her hand.

“I think you successfully killed it.” Varric stepped closer, peering into the darkness. “Where do you think it goes?”

“Right now I don’t really care as long as it gets us out of here.” She looked back to see Carver pulling himself up to his feet, leaning heavily on the crate next to him. “Think you can support his weight? The jerk’s too heavy for me to carry.”

“Of course. I may sit behind a typewriter most days but I can hold my own.”

Éowyn nodded as she marched back to the remaining backpack. After a moment’s search she pulled out a flashlight and turned it on. Shrugging the pack on she looked to Varric and Carver. “Ready?”

“Sure thing. Let’s go Junior before you faint.”

“I’m not going to faint. And don’t call me Junior.”

“Well at least I’m not calling you Shirley.”

“What?”

Varric sighed heavily as he slung Carver’s arm around his shoulder, taking on his weight. “I’m surrounded by heathens.”

“We can discuss our taste in movies later. Let’s just get out of here.” Éowyn kicked at the remaining bit of rock wall that rose up from the floor, sending the remains scattering down the dark tunnel. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through, praying that they would find the way out.

***

“How long were you down there?”

Éowyn slid a glance to Varric. Her friend drained his glass and reached for the bottle, filling it again nearly to the rim. There was a reason he had brought this story up and there had to be a good one. Bartrand was still a touchy subject for him, for both of them, and for him to bring it up meant something.

“Almost too long. And it didn’t get any easier once we finally found the exit.”

“What do you mean?”

Éowyn sighed, pausing to take a large drink of wine, making a mental note to kill Varric later. She hated telling this story. If she’d had her way she never talk about it again.

“Éowyn?”

She sighed again, setting down her wine glass, wishing that it had something stronger in it before she continued with the story.

***

They walked in near silence with only the occasional grunt of pain from Carver as they moved deeper into the tunnel. The flashlight cast steap shadows around them, making her more jumpy than normal. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since they left the storeroom but the longer it took to find a way out the less Carver’s chances were for surviving. 

The flashlight flickered, threatening to go out. Éowyn slapped it with her hand, swearing as it came back to life. It would just be her luck if they lost the light. Meager as it was, it still lit the way and she wasn’t fond of the idea of stumbling around in the dark.

“At the risk of getting punched, how much farther do you think it is? I could use a break and I’m sure Junior could too.”

“I have no idea. We were in the warehouse district when we started and we’ve been going in a somewhat straight direction; we could-,” she paused, her nose wrinkling as the air changed slightly. “Do you smell that?”

“Hawke, all I’m smelling is my sweat and your brother’s blood.”

“I think I smell the ocean. It’s a somewhat briny, rotting smell.” She sniffed again before straining her ears for the sound of something other than the sound of their breathing. Was she imagining it or did she hear the soft lapping of water against stone? She quickened her pace, calling for Varric and Carver to hurry. Several unflattering remarks followed her as she rushed forward but she ignored them as the sound of water grew louder. The tunnel curved slightly and she saw a dim light ahead. At a near run now, she dashed toward it, inhaling the fresh, well fresher, air. Éowyn leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees, her head bowed. Something like relief flooded her. She’d never admit it to the other two but she had been scared that they wouldn’t find the exit in time to get Carver help.

“If I wasn’t so damn happy to be out of there I would kick your ass for running off like that.”

Éowyn stood up and glared at her brother. His face was pale and sweaty and without Varric there propping him up he’d be flat on his ass. “You’re certainly welcome to try but I don’t think you can kill an ant right now much less kick my ass.” She turned to Varric. “Think you can hold him up a little longer. I think I know where we are.”

Éowyn stepped carefully over the rocks, trying her best not to fall into the brackish water filling the space between. Birds were just starting to wake as the eastern sky started to turn a faint purple. Once clear of the rocks Éowyn waited until Varric and Carver caught up with her and took her brother’s other arm, looping it around her neck to take on some of his weight. Varric flashed her a grateful look as they started moving across the narrow beach. She could barely pick out their way in the dim light even with the flashlight but it was enough to sight something lying half-in, half-out of the water ahead of them.

Frowning, Éowyn slowed to a stop when they were about ten feet away. It was then that the smell hit her, a smell that once you experienced it you never forgot it. 

A pale hand trailed out from the grey canvas that wrapped the body, it’s fingers curled in upon itself. No, that wasn’t quite right, some of the fingers were missing, leaving colorless jagged stumps where they used to be. The canvas mostly covered the body’s face but pale blonde strands of hair snaking around the head like a tangled halo. Éowyn stepped out from Carver’s arm and approached the body. Kneeling before it, she breathed through her mouth as she gingerly pulled back the canvas. Her stomach roiled at the remains of the woman lying before her. Someone had viciously slashed at her face, slicing her cheeks open, producing a sickening imitation of a smile. Her hair was shorn to her scalp in several places, revealing the white bone of her skull. Dark ligature marks ringed her throat and she could see more slashing across her chest but resisted pulling the canvas back more. Her nightmares were already bad enough without adding this to it.

“Andraste have mercy.” Varric’s voice was shaky, a tremor in it that she had never heard from him before.

Éowyn swallowed before nodding in agreement, pulling the canvas back over the woman’s face, the image of her dead eyes staring blankly stuck in her brain. That image would stick in her mind forever, adding to the deep pool her brain pulled from for her nightmares.

Without saying anything, she stood up and took back her place at Carver’s side. Her brother’s head was lolling to one side even as he tried to stay awake.

“Come on, we need to get going.”

“You’re just going to leave her here? Like this?” Varric asked incredulously.

“There’s nothing we can do for her, Varric. Once we get Carver medical help I’ll call Aveline and let her know.”

“But-.”

“There’s nothing we can do. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com. There be nerdy shit there. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian was quiet as she finished talking, his brows pulled together in a way that told her that he was trying to sort through everything they had told him. Éowyn bit her lip, darting a glance at Varric, silently pleading with him for to once keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just take your brother to the hospital? If he was hurt as badly as you say surely you should have taken him there.”

“Because what we were doing wasn’t exactly legal. Because hospitals ask questions and those questions tend to bring the guard and at that time Aveline wasn’t as established as she is now. I could only call in so many favors back then before people started asking questions.”

“So you took him to a mechanic instead?”

“Anders is a fully trained and licensed physician,” she said stiffly, sitting up a bit straighter. “Well, he is in Ferelden, licensed that is, but it’s not his fault that Kirkwall’s medical board is filled with bigoted assholes who won’t recognize his credentials. He got the job done with only a minimal amount a bitching.”

Varric snorted into his wine glass. “Yeah, sure Hawke. And the Carta run a simple import-export business.” He yawned, glancing at his watch. “Well kids, this has been fun but I have to get up early. Have a new reporter starting tomorrow and need to practice my scowl.”

“Careful, you might scare this one away on their first day.”

He snorted. “Unlikely. She hounded me for  _ weeks _ for a job. Kid’s tenacious and has spunk and takes no shit, qualities I admire in a reporter. She kind of reminds me of you in a way.”

“So, what, you hired her in self defense?”

“Something like that. I’d rather have her on my team than on one of the other rags in this town. If she’s as good as she says she is, she’ll boost circulation by five, maybe ten percent.”

“Five to ten? Wow, that’s high praise indeed.”

“Business must be good if you’re hiring more staff,” said Sebastian.

“You could say that.” Varric stood up, stretching. “Maker’s breath, I’m full. I don’t think I’ve eaten like that in a long time. Maybe you should give up retaking Vael Consolidated and open a restaurant.”

Sebastian gave him a wry smile as both he and Éowyn stood as well. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I don’t give them out too often.” He turned to Éowyn. “Care to walk a guy home? Or at least to the trolley station? Unless you’re staying here of course.”

Éowyn hesitated a fraction of a second, instinctively knowing that Varric wouldn’t have said anything if he didn’t want to talk with her privately. “Sure. I should probably head home myself. Save myself from the inevitable lecture if I’m past curfew.”

“You’re kidding me; Leandra has you on a curfew?”

“She would like to think so,” she said, rolling her eyes. She looked at Sebastian, a slightly guilty look on her face. She knew she was bailing on clean-up and she knew that he knew. He didn’t know the why though. “Are you okay with me taking off? I mean, you did do all the cooking, it’s only fair that I help with cleanup.”

“Darling, I love you but I think it’s best for all of us if I take care of it.”

Éowyn wrinkled his nose at him. “Just because I didn’t put your spices back in alphabetical order doesn’t mean that I can’t help. Besides, it’s just dishes and stuff. It’s not like I’m trying to make toast.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said crossing over to her and placing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll get it done quicker without… distractions.” He trailed a finger down the curve of her cheek, sending shivers throughout her body. She could take an accurate guess as to what he meant by distractions. Considering their extensive gymnastics from earlier that day she wasn’t sure she could take another session so soon. The man was incorrigible, if a bit fastidious at times. And very particular about how his kitchen was put together.

“Distractions. Right.” Two could play at this game she thought before rising up to kiss him, letting her lips linger briefly, her tongue darting out to trace his lower lip before pulling away, winking at him. “I’ll see you later then.”

Sebastian followed them into the foyer, hands in his pockets. Varric gave him a little salute as he left and Éowyn could only shake her head at her friend. At least they had gotten through the evening without him calling Sebastian Choir Boy. Seeing as that was the goal of tonight’s dinner, Éowyn was going to take the win despite rehashing memories best left in the past.

They had only made it halfway down the walkway before Varric spoke.

“I can’t help but notice that you left out the part with the body on the beach when you finished up the story for Choir Boy.”

“It wasn’t relevant and I thought that you weren’t going to call him that anymore.”

“Not to his face.”

“Varric.” She didn’t quite growl but it was close.

“What? You can take the boy out of the Chantry but you can’t take the Chantry out of the boy.”

“Aren’t you Andrastean yourself?”

“Yes, but not to the point where I willingly put myself at their mercy.”

“It wasn’t like that. His parents forced him in and you know that.”

“Once he reached the age of majority he could have left.”

“I thought you were going to give him a chance,” she said quietly, not quite able to keep the hurt out of her voice. Varric was one of her closest friends, the first one she’d made upon coming to Kirkwall, and for him to constantly pick at Sebastian… well, it hurt.

“Ah, shit. Hawke, I just… I just don’t want to see you hurt. You deserve someone who will stick by you through thick and thin and won’t run off at the first sign of trouble.”

“I think he’s already proved that he won’t do that, don’t you think? He’s not the leaving type. He’s solid.”

“Then why didn’t you tell him about the body? I would have thought after what happened a month ago would prove he had a strong stomach.”

“It’s not about having a strong stomach, Varric, and you damn well know it. I’m not going to describe finding a horribly mutilated woman just for shock value. He wanted the story behind how we met and he got it. That poor girl didn’t factor in the matter.”

“They never did find who did it,” he said after a brief pause.

“I know.”

“And there have been others over the past three years. All unsolved.”

Éowyn stopped in her tracks, feeling a spark of anger rise within her. “I’m aware, believe me, but nothing we could have done that night would have helped that poor girl or the others. We got the guard there as quick as we could. It’s not my fault if they bungled the investigation.”

“I know that, Hawke, and it wasn’t my intention to make you think that. I just… she’s haunted my dreams since then. I can’t shake it.”

At his words her temper slightly dissipated. She was still angry but she could understand where he was coming from. “I know all about nightmares, Varric, trust me.” She took a deep breath. “If there was something I could have done for her, you know that I would have.”

“I do.”

They walked in silence for several minutes, Éowyn still smarting over Varric’s remarks. She’d already doubted herself enough before admitting that she loved Sebastian; she didn’t need Varric questioning her choices now.

They were just coming up on the Amell estate when he finally spoke again. “There was another reason why I brought up the thing about the statue.”

Éowyn pursed her lips. “I thought as much,” she said, waiting for him to continue.

“We both know that Bartrand pretty much disappeared off the face of the planet after all that happened.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, wondering what he was getting at.

“I’ve been hearing rumors that he’s back in town, and, well shit, they’re not good.”

“Do tell. He was pretty well off the edge of the map we last saw him. I can’t imagine that he’s improved much since then.”

“You’re probably right about it. Thing is, it’s been three years with no word and you can believe that I had all feelers out for that bastard. Asshole tries to bury us alive and thinks he can just get away with it? I don’t think so.”

“No argument from me but what exactly do you want me to do about these rumors?” she asked, pretty sure that she already knew the answer.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, especially after what happened, but if you could look into them I’d really appreciate it,” he said, and then rushed on before she could respond. “If you’re like me, I figure you wouldn’t mind getting some payback.”

“Don’t get me wrong Varric, as much as I would seriously enjoy kicking your brother’s ass, I just don’t see what purpose finding him would serve besides revenge. And what are we going to do with him if we do find him? If we turn him in you know he won’t keep his damn mouth shut. Any charges filed against him are just as likely to get slapped on us. I’m not about to dig his grave only to jump in right after him. And I’m certainly not going to drag Carver down too, he’s worked too hard to get where he is,” she paused. “Are you really willing to risk everything you’ve built, the paper, those kids you mentor, everything, for a chance to get revenge?”

Varric stuffed his hands in his pockets, a scowl painting his face. Éowyn chewed on her lower lip. She hated saying no to Varric and as much as she would like revenge for what Bartrand did, she just didn’t see a way to do that without him dragging them down with him. As angry as she’d been about Carver leaving, she’d come to accept his choice. She didn’t mind putting herself in guard’s crosshairs so much, but she couldn’t do the same to Carver. He’d worked hard these past three years to make something of himself and she couldn’t in good conscience take that away from him. 

“When did you become the responsible one?” he grumbled.

“It’s a somewhat recent development.”

Varric didn’t respond, choosing instead to look out over the city. The sun was angling down, painting the city with a golden hue. It was one of those rare days in Kirkwall where it seemed that nothing bad ever happened here and with that golden light one could be forgiven for thinking so. The wind chose that moment to whip through the streets, forcing Éowyn to brace herself. Cursing, she pushed her hair out of her face. Autumn couldn’t come soon enough.

“I know it’s a lot to ask and when you put it that way, you make a good point. We both have a lot to lose. And you’re right about Carver. Dammit.”

“Hey, you never know,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Maybe he’ll doing something stupid and fall into a bottomless pit or drop into a vat of acid and become horribly disfigured.”

“From your lips to the Maker’s ears,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He’s not all bad.”

“What? Your brother’s the highest grade of asshole that I’ve ever met.”

“No, not him. Your boyfriend. Once you get past the stuffiness and all that niceness, he’s not all that bad.”

“Jeez Varric, don’t let him hear you say that, you’ll make him blush with all that praise.”

“Gah, you know what I mean. I can see that he makes you happy.”

“He does. No one is more surprised by that than me. Trust me.”

“Well, if anyone deserves some good in their life it’s you.” He let out a slow breath. “If, by chance, I come across anything,  _ interesting _ , regarding my brother…”

“Let me know. Perhaps we can come up with something that won’t land us both in jail.”

“That’s the hope. See ya.”

Éowyn stood on the sidewalk, watching him until he reached the trolley. He sat next to the operator, immediately striking up a conversation. She’d place even money that the operator was on his payroll in one way or another. He had people all over the city, his own little network of spies, one that he guarded fiercely. Not even she knew all of them.

Shaking her head, she walked up the pathway to the door to her mother’s house and braced herself for the inevitable judgement. Leandra had somewhat cooled her not-so-subtle criticisms of how Éowyn lived her life but there were still little jabs that she got in from time to time, one of them being the amount of time she spent with Sebastian. It wasn’t that she didn’t approve of him, on the contrary, she fawned over him whenever he visited, it was more that she believed Éowyn wasn’t living up to how she should act as his paramour, as Leandra put it. There were times when she suspected that Leandra thought that  _ she, _ her own daughter, wasn’t good enough for Sebastian. She tried not to let those little dark thoughts get to her but it was hard. Not for the first time she wondered what her life would be like if her father hadn’t died all those years ago, if Bethany hadn’t died, if Carver hadn’t left. 

Sighing, she inserted her key and opened the door. Not for the first time she had to face the fact that she and her mother were never going to have the so-called traditional relationship that many other mothers and daughters shared.

A soft light lit the entryway as she walked into the house. Éowyn tossed her house keys into the crystal bowl that sat on the side table knowing that it would irritate her mother. She paused in the entryway, listening for movement in the house. Maybe she would get lucky and Leandra had already retired to her room for the night. Stepping into the main room she saw a light spilling out from what Leandra called her parlor and wondered if she could sneak past without her noticing. Unlikely seeing as Leandra was hyperconscious of her comings and goings ever since the incident at the Harimann estate. The resulting scandal had rocked Hightown, its residents shocked that such things could happen near them,  while most of those who lived in Lowtown and below simply shrugged and went about their business. Kirkwall was technically one city but there was a definite divide and most people frowned when you crossed the line. 

She stopped in the archway, leaning against the frame as she watched her mother fiddle with something on the table. Leandra kept her back to her but there was very little doubt that she didn’t know Éowyn was there, a fact proven when she spoke.

“You’re home earlier than I thought you would be.”

“Yes, it’s a Wintersend miracle.”

Leandra visibly stiffened. Éowyn could clearly picture her mother’s lips twisting in disapproval. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Éowyn. I was merely making an observation.”

Éowyn bit back a retort. She really wasn’t up to fighting with her, the comment was more out of reflex than any true annoyance. She’d had a pretty damn good day and didn’t want to tarnish it with a pointless argument.

“Okay then. I’m heading to bed. Goodnight.” 

“Quentin was here.”

Éowyn had turned away but spun around at her mother’s words. Her fists tightened as she held onto her temper. “What did he want?” she asked tightly. Maybe the bastard was dying of some incurable and incredibly painful disease. One could dream.

“He asked me to dinner. Wants to see me again.”

“Over my dead body he will.”

“Oh Éowyn, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just dinner.”

“It’s never just dinner with that asshole. He’ll worm his way back in, use you for your bank account and this time he’ll clean you out.”

“Quentin has his faults, I won’t deny that, but he’s not as bad as you make him out to be. Honestly Éowyn, you make it sound like he’s some sort of demon. He brought me flowers,” she said, gesturing to the arrangement on the table.

Éowyn’s eyes narrowed as she saw the flowers and tried to count to ten before speaking again. She only made it to five. “He gave you lilies, Mother. That’s something you bring to a funeral, not to a woman you’re trying to make up with.”

“Oh, Éowyn, you’re young. You can’t possibly understand what it’s like for a woman of my age to be courted. I don’t exactly have options at my age.”

“You’re not an ancient crone risen from the deep, Mother. And where is it written that in order to be a complete person you have to be attached to another person? And if you absolutely must attach yourself, why him? You could do so much better than that fucking asshole.”

“Éowyn, language!” Leandra sighed. “I know you don’t like Quentin, and while I may agree that he has his faults, he has for the most part been good to me.”

“It’s the ‘for the most part’ that bothers me. And that’s all nice about him being good  _ to _ you, but what about good  _ for _ you?”

“Who is the parent here in this conversation?” Leandra asked, exasperated. “Don’t make me choose between family and someone I care about. Not again.”

Éowyn’s jaw dropped, baffled by her mother’s statement. “What are you talking about?”

“Your father…” Leandra shook her head. “No, it’s not important.”

“No, you’ve dodged this for years. What about my father? Ever since we came to this blighted city you seem to forget that you’re a Hawke.”

Leandra’s face flushed red and she showed an anger that Éowyn hadn’t seen since just after Bethany died. “I have  _ not  _ forgotten your father, or the life we had, but I sacrificed so much to be with him, lost so much, things I can never get back,” she said, her jaw tightening.

“We’ve all lost-.”

“What would you know about it, Éowyn? You’ve never lost a child, you haven’t experienced loss like that. You haven’t lost your family because you ran off with a man you loved.”

It took everything she had not to scream. She didn’t know anything about loss? Was she serious? Rage built up within her but instead of letting it erupt, she shoved it down, her voice turning cold. “No, but I lost a sister to the war and I have a mother who blames me for it. A mother who also blames me for her son, her  _ adult _ son, leaving for the wardens. I feel Bethany’s loss every day,  _ every day _ ; I did everything I could to save her but it wasn’t enough and you can’t know how much I wish it was otherwise. I didn’t leave this family, one by one it has left me.” She started to walk away but spun around, some of that fury leaking through her voice. “I don’t need you to punish me for Bethany’s death, I already do that enough myself. I have the nightmares to prove it.

“The renovations to my office will be done soon so I’ll be out of here and you can do and see whoever you want. I think it’s probably best for both of us if I’m not here longer than necessary.”

Before Leandra could respond, Éowyn turned on her heel and walked quickly up the stairs, tears burning in her eyes. She slammed her bedroom door behind her and stood in the middle of the room, clamping her eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep those tears back. A vice gripped her chest as she choked back a sob. It had been a mistake to move in with her mother. She had foolishly thought that they would be able to reconcile but time was showing that was unlikely. Her mother would never accept her for the person she was and would never forgive her for things that were beyond her control.

Breaking her rule, she strode over to her dresser and pulled a bottle of Antivan whiskey out of the bottom drawer. She snatched up the tumbler and filled it to three fingers before tossing it back. That one down, she poured another but drank it slower this time, letting it burn down her throat and sit in her stomach. Isabela would be scandalized if she saw how she was drinking what was probably a hundred dollar bottle of whiskey but at that moment she wasn’t drinking it for the taste. 

Calmer, she stripped down and pulled on a shirt she’d borrowed from Sebastian one morning and had yet to return it. It still faintly smelled of him and that calmed her more than she really wanted to admit. The house was quiet as she flopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling before pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes, willing time to take the brewing headache away. Maker, she was tired, tired of all of it. Nothing had been the same since her father had died. Sure they’d been poor but at least they’d been relatively happy.

“Is that really how you remember it?”

Éowyn’s head snapped up, looking wildly around the room. In one of the darker corners she could just make out a figure leaning against the windowsill. She knew that voice and also knew the impossibility of hearing that voice.

“Father doted on you, there’s no doubt about that, but do you also remember how much he put on your shoulders?”

“He trusted me to take care of the family. That was my job as the oldest.”

“Oh sister dear, how old were you when he told you that? Twelve? Thirteen?”

Éowyn bristled, sitting upright in the bed and glared at the shadow. “What does that have to do with anything? I was happy to do it. As the oldest it’s my responsibility to watch over my siblings.”

“Don’t you think you deserved a childhood as well?” The shadow shifted away from the window, moving like a ghost across the room. “Here’s what I think. I think that Father knew he wasn’t going to be around for much longer and that our mother was ill-equipped to handle three children all on her own, so he made a fail-safe in case the worst should happen.” The shadow turned toward her. Éowyn couldn’t see their eyes but she felt them watching her as a cold sweat pebbled against her skin. “You were his fail-safe Éowyn and mother knew it too,” the shadow said, it’s voice cutting in and out like a radio on a stormy day.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, dear sister, that you continue to miss the point. You had responsibility thrust upon you at an early age and at least one person took advantage of that, therefore you think that you’re responsible for everything and everyone around you. And you continue to believe it. That’s not a good way to live.”

“What you do know about it? You’re dead.”

“And you blame yourself for it, as much or possibly even more than Mother does.”

“I can’t control what she thinks.”

The shadow tilted its head. “No, you can’t, but can control your own reactions.”

“Again says the dead girl.”

The shadow shifted, parts becoming lighter while others deepened into almost black. Éowyn forcibly swallowed the lump in her throat as sharp pinpoints of white and yellow light broke through the shadow, giving it more texture and revealing the person to whom she knew the shadow belonged to. The figure coming to light did very little in showing how Éowyn wished to remember Bethany, instead showing a version she prefered to forget. Grey and ashen, Bethany stared at her, those white and yellow flecks running across her skin like tiny lightning bolts. Éowyn watched, her gut clenching as the ghost of her dead sister approached.

“You’re not real.”

“Of course I’m not real, dummy. You pulled me up from your subconscious. It’s time for you to wake up.”

With that Bethany’s form began to crumble, bits of her floating off into the ether. The last thing she saw was her sister’s faint smile before the shadow completely dissolved, leaving her alone in the dark.

Éowyn shot up from the bed, her face covered in a combination of sweat and tears. Draggin a hand through her hair she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stared blankly across the room. Her mouth tasted like ashes as she shook off the remnants of the dream.

“At least she wasn’t bleeding this time,” she said aloud to the empty room before putting her head in her hands. The dreams had gotten better over the past month but they still lingered and she knew that no matter how much time passed that they would always be there, it was just a matter of severity. 

Shaking off the last bits of the dream, she couldn’t really count this one as a nightmare, she hadn’t woken up screaming after all, and walked into the adjoining bathroom to splash some water on her face. She stared into the mirror, trying to figure out what part of her brain thought it was necessary that she be visited by her dead sister. It was cruel, the tricks her brain played on her and she desperately wished that she could find a way to make it stop. Was it too much to ask to want to be a mostly functional adult that didn’t wake up screaming and sweating more often than not?

Sighing, she pushed away from the sink and wandered back into the bedroom. She eyed the bed warily, not sure if she wanted to crawl back into it so soon. The whiskey bottle sat on her bedside table, the tinted glass gleaming in the low light, seemingly beckoning her to come to it. She contemplated it for a moment before deliberately recapping it and putting it back in her dresser drawer. Loneliness settled over her as she climbed back into bed and pulled the sheet up to her waist. Moonlight spilled through the slightly open window, the night sounds of the city a distant hum. If there was one benefit to living in Hightown it was how quiet the neighborhoods could be. When she had still been living in Lowtown she wouldn’t have dared to leave the windows open even a crack while she slept no matter how hot it was. Between the noise and occasional idiot who thought she was an easy mark, having the windows closed was the better part of valor despite how hot Kirkwall summers were.

She supposed that she’d have to get used to the noise again once she moved fully back into her office. It was mall price to pay to not have daily arguments with her mother and the inevitable headache that followed, but she’d manage it.

Éowyn curled into herself into a ball and heaved out another sigh. She fully expected to stare at the walls until dawn but sleep surprisingly snuck up on her again, dragging her down but this time left her dreams alone. If she did dream, she didn’t remember and sometimes that was the best thing a person could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com. There be nerdy shit there. :)


	4. Chapter 4

“Come on Flora, you’re not going to hurt me.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Éowyn didn’t bother to suppress an eyeroll. She held her fighting position, holding up the blocking pads that Flora was supposed to be hitting. “You asked me to teach you some basic defense and this is how we do it. You’re going to get a cracked nail or two in the process.”

Flora stared at her, chewing her bottom lip. “It’s not that. I can always get those fixed.”

Éowyn dropped her arms, letting them hang at her sides, the pads heavy on her hands. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just… what if once I start I can’t stop? What if I just keep hitting?” 

“Your arms will eventually get tired. There will coming a stopping point.”

Flora let out a frustrated sigh and turned away. The younger woman held herself stiffly, wrapping her arms around her waist as she muttered under her breath.

“Alright, I’ll stop with the smart-ass remarks if you tell me what’s got your panties in a twist.”

“Are you ever serious?”

“On the rare occasion. Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” she said when Flora shot her another glare. Éowyn sighed and leaned against against a her desk, resting her padded hands on her lap. Her office wasn’t exactly the best place to give a few self-defense lessons but Flora had made an offhand comment earlier that day about how she envied how Éowyn could throw a punch and before she could really say more Éowyn had shoved much of the furniture aside, intent on giving her new friend a few pointers. Except now Flora seemed to be losing her nerve. She probably hadn’t expected Éowyn to be so eager about it, or for her to have a pair of sparring pads in the back of the closet. Flora really should have known better after Éowyn had, somewhat to her chagrin, taken her under her wing after what happened. 

“Flora?”

“I was so angry. So angry and scared and I just kept shooting her. Kept shooting until she was dead. Until she was way past dead. I couldn’t stop.”

Éowyn took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. She’d wondered when this would come up. Flora Harimann had suffered under her mother’s abuse for years and had finally snapped, emptying a revolver into her mother’s body long after she was dead. Johane had been an ugly human being and Éowyn privately thought that her death had been too easy but she would never tell Flora that. After the shock of that night wore off, Éowyn had spotted the weight of guilt settling over Flora. It was easy to spot as she wore the same cloak, just one with a different color.

“No one blames you for what happened, you know that right? It was determined to be self-defense.”

“I blame me. I should have stopped but I couldn’t.” Flora raised her head, eyes bright with tears and a banked fury. “I don’t regret it. I know that’s a sin but I don’t regret killing her.”

“I’m not one much for religion but if we’re going to bring out the sin scales, your mother’s sins were far greater and heavier than yours. And frankly, if the Maker or whoever thinks differently they’re a fucking idiot.” Éowyn stepped forward, placing her hands on Flora’s shoulders. “It was self-defense, plain and simple.”

“That’s rather stretching the definition I think. Still, I didn’t stop until that gun was empty. I kept pulling that trigger until you took it from me.” She bowed her head. “I didn’t stop.”

Realization dawned on Éowyn and she could have slapped herself for being so dense. “That was an extraordinary situation, Flora. Trading a few punches here isn’t the same. You are not a monster. Trust me. I’ve met monsters and you aren’t one of them. You’re a survivor.”

Flora opened her mouth to respond but stopped and looked down at her clenched hands, fingers entwined tightly around each other. Her shoulders, held so rigidly suddenly slumped as if all her bones turned to liquid.  

“Look, I’m probably not the best person to talk to about what you’re going through as I tend to blow off steam by punching something or drinking, but that works for me. We just need to find something that works for you.” She flashed a smile at Flora. “Though I wouldn’t be so quick to turn down punching something. As long as you know what you’re doing it can be very therapeutic.”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“And that’s why we’re here,” Éowyn told her as she pushed off the desk and took up her stance in front of Flora again. “Alright now, let’s try this again. Arms up, hands in front of your face but don’t clench them too tightly. Point your left foot and shoulder toward me and slightly bend your knees. Keep your eyes on my hands.”

“This seems like an awful lot to remember.”

“Well, if you don’t want to hurt yourself, you better remember. No, don’t tuck your thumb in your fist, that’s the best way to break it. Keep it along the front of your fingers. Now, hit me.”

Flora swung out, her hand hitting weakly against the pad. “Come on, Flora. Flies fart harder than that. Again.”

The younger woman punched again, this time putting more force behind behind her swing. Flesh slapped against the leather pad, the smack echoing slightly in the otherwise quiet room. Flora made a slight gasp, as if surprised that she’d done it. Éowyn smiled encouragingly and directed her to go again.

Fifteen minutes passed before Flora finally tired, begging off as she slumped into a nearby chair. Sweat beaded across her brow as she waited for her breath to return. Éowyn dropped the pads on her desk before walking over to the small kitchen area and filled a glass with water. Handing the glass to the other woman, she returned to her desk and began unwrapping the tape from her hands. She waited until Flora finished her glass of water before speaking.

“Have to say, though it’s good to know how to throw a punch, it probably won’t do you all that good.”

Flora gaped at her. “Are you serious? Why did you spend all that time teaching me then?”

“Because you needed to feel like you had some control. But if you’re ever in a fight or are attacked you’re better off running than fighting.”

“But what if I can’t get away?”

Éowyn crossed her arms and leaned back against her desk. “By fighting dirty. Biting their hand or a good kick to the so-called family jewels will go a lot further in protecting yourself and being able to get away.”

Flora let out a heavy sigh and stared down at her empty glass. Her brows drew together as she mulled over what to say next.

“You’re right. I haven’t had much control of my life. Mother ruled over all of us with an iron fist and she was vicious if you crossed over whatever line she drew. Brett got away with more as he was a man but she held the purse strings pretty tight.” She made a sour face. “He found ways around that though. Me on the other hand, I was trapped. I still feel trapped. I have no skills. All the family money is tied up with the banks, I can’t access any of it. I’m pretty much useless.”

“You are not useless, Flora. You just need to find your way. And I’m sure that your accounts will be unfrozen once the investigations finished.” Éowyn paused, chewing on her bottom lip. “As for skills, I could possibly help there. I can’t pay you much, next to nothing really, but if you want I could use a secretary around here. Someone to help with the accounts and stuff.”

Flora looked at her, her eyes watery with unshed tears. “You would do that for me?”

Éowyn shrugged. “It’d help if there was someone here when I’m out in case a new client comes in. You don’t have to if-.”

“No! I mean, yes, I would like that very much. It will,” she took a deep breath, calming herself. “It will help keep me busy. I want, need to keep busy.”

“Well, I can’t guarantee just how busy you’ll be but you’ll meet some characters for sure.”

“It will at least get me out of that house.” Flora looked down at her hands. “It’s hard being there. Too many memories.”

Éowyn was about to respond when someone rapped loudly on the door. Before she could do anything Flora sprang up from her seat and quickly crossed the room to open the door. She opened it way too quickly for Éowyn’s comfort, revealing a greying middle-aged man. Upon seeing them, he snatched his frayed hat off his head, gripping it in his hands. There was something vaguely familiar about him that Éowyn couldn’t quite place.

“Help you?” Éowyn asked, not moving from her spot at the desk. Her tone wasn’t outright hostile but there definitely was an edge to it as a memory scratched at the back of her mind. Flora stared up at the man, one hand fidgeting at her side as she debated on whether or not to admit him entrance.

“Miss Hawke, you may not remember me. It’s been several years, and, well, this face has seen better days. My name is Emeric Jones.”

Pursing her lips, Éowyn took a closer look and felt the bottom of her stomach fall out. She did know him. He had been one of the people the Knight-Commander had sent to investigate the woman that she, along with Varric and Carver, had found three years ago on the beach. They’d never been able to identify her but Éowyn suspected that she had been a refuge that had snuck into the city. With no records, no papers, no friends or family to identify her, the woman’s identity remained a mystery to this day, a cautionary tale parents told to their children to keep them in line. For Éowyn it was yet another reminder of how this city chewed people up and spat them out.

“I remember you, Mr Jones,” she said stiffly, perversely refusing to use his title of Knight-Lieutenant. Why the templar order insisted on putting knight in their titles was beyond her. From her interactions with them there was very little that was noble about them. The whole order had an arrogance about them that just rubbed her the wrong way. It certainly didn’t help that the order had the bad habit of attempting to interfere with her investigations or try to get her arrested. “It’s been awhile. Come to harass me on behalf of your illustrious leader?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a grimace spreading across his face. “Ah, no. I’m not here at the Knight-Commander’s behest. I had to retire from the order. I’m here on my own volition.”

“Had to? I thought being a member of the order was a lifetime appointment.”

Emeric’s lips twisted. “Normally you would be right, but I’m afraid I was rather, overzealous, in my investigation of the so-called drowned mermaids. I was summarily dismissed from the order a year ago by the Knight-Commander herself. She said I was sticking my nose in the city guard business and by doing so I was making the order look bad.”

“And of course our sainted Knight-Commander Meredith couldn’t have that. Think of the scandal. How horrible an image it must be for the templar order actually helping people instead of harassing those who need it most.” She glared at him. “Like Ferelden refugees. Or those who sought solace in the Chantry but were only met with scorn.”

The former templar grimaced as his face flushed in either embarrassment or irritation; it was hard to tell. “Mistakes were made, I won’t lie. The Chantry and the order failed the refugees, failed a lot of people; I would go back and change that if I could.”

Éowyn forced her jaw to relax, the joint making an audible pop as she did so. How she hated that phrase.  _ Mistakes were made. _ As if a backhanded apology would fix everything. The former Knight-Lieutenant appeared to be sincere in his regret however, but he had yet to explain why he was at her door. Flora stood between them, slightly off to the side with her hands clasped together. What little spunk she’d shone in opening the door had retreated and Éowyn could only hope that as time passed she’d be able to keep that spark alive longer.

“Well, now that we’ve established that you’re, retired, you might as well come in. Why exactly are you here Mr Jones?”

“I know this is a lot to ask but I don’t know who else to turn to. The guard aren’t exactly fans of mine after…” Emeric trailed off and stared down at his shoes. Éowyn waited him out, certain that he’d get to the point. Eventually.

“I requested the city guard to raid one of the more, ah, affluent members of society.” For the first time since he had entered her office fire lit behind Emeric’s eyes. “I know this man is associated with the murders, I know it in my gut.”

“Why do I hear a but coming?”

“But,” Emeric sighed. “The guard found nothing and I had poked at the wrong bear as it were and was forced to chose to retire with my pension or be fired outright.”

“And just who was this paragon of virtue you insulted by accusing him of a gruesome murder?”

He opened his mouth, then hesitated before sighing. When he spoke it was with a combination of annoyance and frustration.

“Gascard DuPuis.”

Éowyn flipped through her mental rolodex for the name. It did sound familiar. Vaguely.

“He’s a transplant from Orlais. He doesn’t leave his manor much from what I remember, very reclusive. At least, he wasn’t at any of the social events Mother dragged me to,” Flora piped up, her eyes widening when she realized that she had spoken aloud. She cleared her throat uneasily before she continued. “I only met him a couple of times. He was… unsettling.”

“See Flora, you’re being helpful already. Considering how I actively try to avoid all things Orlesian I wouldn’t have known that.” She turned back to Emeric. “What made you suspect him?”

“I have eyewitness statements that he met with at least two of the victims.”

“Not exactly hard proof that he murdered them. Or enough to order a raid. Even at its most corrupt the city guard still required at least a modicum of hard evidence,” she paused. “Or faked it anyway. Is that what happened?”

“No,” Emeric insisted. “We just didn’t find anything when we raided DuPuis’ estate. I know that he’s involved, I’m certain of it. I just can’t prove it.”

“So what is it that you think I can do when you failed?”

Emeric ran a hand through his thinning grey hair. “A fresh eye perhaps? People such as you have more leeway than the guard or those of the order,” he stopped and cleared his throat. “I’m aware of your close relationship with the current guard-captain and I don’t mean to disparage them but these women have fallen through the cracks and… and I fear there may have been another.”

At his words Éowyn sat up straighter. Ever since the night of the dinner party with Varric two weeks ago, the drowned mermaids had been on her mind, doubt creeping in that perhaps she could have done more over the years.

“Do you have a name?”

Emeric’s face fell. “Two actually. A Fereldan named Mharen Barnes and a local woman, Ninette de Carrac.” He reached into his interior jacket pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. Éowyn took it from him, pulling out several sheets covered in cramped handwriting. She skimmed through them, noting Emeric’s observations and theories. Some of it seemed like wild speculation but he did have solid points. Several in fact the more she read.

Looking up from the pages she found Emeric looking at her, desperation spread across his face. “I can’t help these women but I’m hoping you can. I just,” he trailed off and his eyes went distant for a moment. Refocusing, he looked back at her. “I just can’t rest easy knowing that this bastard is still out there prowling women. He’s not picky, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

She was in fact aware. She’d reviewed every known death associated to this killer and other than the fact that all his victims were women there was no pattern. Blondes, redheads, brunettes. Short, tall, thin, fat. Young and old. They spread all across the spectrum of women one might find in Kirkwall. Hell, across Thedas. There were gaps in the killings which either meant he took a hiatus or there were more bodies out there that hadn’t been found. She hoped for the former. The alternative turned her stomach.

“According to this there’s been only a week between these two women disappearing. That’s new,” she said, before adding, “If this is indeed him.”

“It’s him,” Emeric insisted. “I know it is.”

Éowyn glanced over at Flora. The woman was chewing on her bottom lip, her brows furrowed together. She debated the wisdom of letting Flora dig deeper into the darker side of humanity considering that she had lived most of her life with the darker side but maybe this would give her a way to take those experiences and make something good from them.

“Alright, I’ll look into this, see what I can find. If anything. Who knows, maybe he’ll get sloppy this time.” 

“From your lips to the Maker’s ears. Miss Hawke, I know that we didn’t have the best of introductions but your reputation has earned my respect. If anyone can find this murderer, it’s you.”

She turned, reaching across her desk and pulled a contract out of a folder, handing it to Emeric. “It’s a standard contract. What? You didn’t think I was going to do this for free did you?”

“Ah, no of course not,” he said, skimming over the contract, his face flushed. “I’ll get you the down payment tomorrow.”

Éowyn said nothing as Emeric stood up and took his leave. She frowned downed at the papers he had given her.

“Well, no pressure or anything.”

“Are you really going to try to find the Drowned Mermaid Killer?”

Éowyn’s jaw tightened and she had to make an effort not to glare at Flora. She hated that moniker. It was demeaning and disrespectful of the victims. One of Varric’s asshole competitors had come up with it, thinking that they were being clever, and the moniker had stuck. What better way to instill fear into the masses than to give a killer a catchy name? All of the victims had been found on the beach in the harbor, not all that far from the Gallows really, and apparently that was enough for said asshole to try and make bank on the deaths of several women.

“It would seem so.”

“Oh, well then.”

“Yeah,” Éowyn said before sighing heavily. She’d hoped that she could ease back into things with something simple but since when did Kirkwall ever give her a break?

“Anyway, if you’re going to work for me I guess we should get you a desk or something. Can’t have you sitting on the floor. I’m sure that would create the wrong impression. Or something like that.”

“I might have something from home that should-.”

The office door flung open, nearly bouncing off the wall as the whirlwind that was Merrill entered. Her face was flushed with excitement and if Éowyn wasn’t mistaken there was a slight gleam of tears in her wide green eyes.

“Hawke! You’ll never believe what just happened! I can’t believe it myself. It’s just so amazing. Never in a million billion years did I think it would happen. Can you believe it?” Merrill flung herself across the room, wrapping her arms tightly around Éowyn, hugging her with a strength that the average person on the street wouldn’t have suspected she had. 

“I would, Merrill, if I knew what you were talking about,” Éowyn managed, carefully extricating herself from her excitable friend.

“Oh! Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. I’m just so excited and you know how I babble when I’m excited. I never in a million years thought this would happen.” Merrill let her go only to grab her hands tightly. Éowyn looked her over, noting tiny flecks of paint staining the collar of her shirt.

“I can see that but I’m still unclear as to why.”

“Oh, I’m so silly. You can’t read minds. Someone’s going to show my paintings! In an actual art gallery and everything. I’m so happy I could burst.”

“That’s wonderful, Merrill. I always knew that someday someone would see your paintings for what they are.”

“Oh Hawke, you’ve always been so supportive. You and Varric. I don’t know if I’d ever have gotten a real gallery showing if it weren’t for you.”

“I’m thinking your talent might have something to do with it but I’m sure Varric will be more than willing to take some of the credit. Who knows, if your paintings sell well enough you could quit The Hanged Man and paint full time.”

A look of utter horror spread across Merrill’s face. “Oh, no! I couldn’t leave Corff. He depends on me so much.”

“Uses you so much you mean. But seriously, I couldn’t be happier for you Merrill. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

The tears that had been threatening spilled over, leaving Merrill’s eyes bright even as the tears streaked her smiling face. “That means so much, it really does,” she sniffed, wiping away the tears and in the process seeing Flora for the first time. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. How silly of me, I was just so excited I was going to burst.”

The corner of Flora’s mouth tilted up as Merrill babbled at her. “It’s quite alright. It sounds like it’s well deserved. I’m Flora, Flora Harimann.”

“Oh, goodness, I’m so rude. I’m Merrill, Hawke’s friend.” She released Éowyn’s hands and turned fully to Flora, clasping her hand. “It’s ever so nice to meet you. Hawke’s told me about you. All good things, I promise.”

“Oh, well, that’s nice. It’s lovely to finally meet you as well.” Éowyn watched with some fascination as Flora’s cheeks took on a slight pink flush as her gaze flicked down to their joined hands and then back to her face. “You’re an artist?”

“Oh yes, well, sort of.”

Éowyn rolled her eyes. “Merrill’s too modest. I sincerely doubt that someone would have offered to put your paintings up in their gallery if you were only ‘sort of an artist.’ Who is this benefactor of yours anyway?”

“Oh! It’s Mr Xenon.”

“Xenon? The guy who owns The Antiquarian? Are you serious?” Éowyn tried to keep the skepticism out of her voice. Everything she knew about Xenon could fill a thimble. For a guy who sold the rare and odd, he made it difficult to actually buy his wares. Only people of a certain quality were allowed into his gallery, which begged the question of how he was going to sell Merrill’s paintings.

“Absolutely. His assistant tracked me down at work to set up a meeting with him. I just got back from meeting with him. He says my paintings are very unique.” 

“Word is he likes the unique… Wait, you met with him alone?”

“Well, I-.”

“Dammit Merrill. Did you sign anything?”

“He did have a lot of papers. It was very confusing.”

“Andraste have mercy,” Éowyn groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Which is why I was so glad that Varric was there with me. He was in the diner when Mr Xenon’s assistant came in and was nice enough to come with me. Varric’s such a nice man.”

Éowyn snorted even as she sent a mental prayer of thanks to her friend. She knew that Varric had a soft spot for Merrill, looked after her like she was his sister. Something that Éowyn would forever be grateful for. Despite being banished by her family and having to make it in Kirkwall almost by herself there was still a certain amount of naivete to her friend that was going to get her hurt one of these days if she wasn’t careful.

“Yeah, he’s a real peach.”

“So, you’ll come to the opening, won’t you? You and Sebastian?”

Éowyn smiled at her friend. “Of course we will. With bells on.”

“Oh, I don’t think you need to wear bells but it’ll probably be fancy. Unless bells are in fashion, you hear the strangest things about fashion from Orlais.”

“Good thing we’re in Kirkwall then,” Éowyn chuckled. “So when is the showing?”

“Not for a couple of weeks. Mr Xenon wants to, oh how did he put it? Ensure that the aesthetics flowed. And something about socks. I wasn’t really sure what he meant but Varric thought it was really funny though.”

“Of course he did. Let me know when it is and I’ll make sure that I don’t have anything planned for that night.”

“Sebastian too?”

“Yes, Sebastian too.” Éowyn narrowed her eyes, wondering why Merrill was so insistent on him being there but she decided to let it go. For now.

“You’re going to come to, right Flora? I know we just met but it would be nice to have another familiar face there.”

“Oh, well, I would love to,” Flora stammered, clearly surprised at the invitation. A wide smile spread across Merrill’s face. If the woman got any happier Éowyn feared that she might explode. 

Éowyn chuckled at Flora’s reaction. Being around Merrill sometimes felt like you were caught in a whirlwind. Some considered her flaky but there were few people that Éowyn had met that could be as thoughtful as her. Despite what she said, Merrill was actually good with people and much smarter than people gave her credit for, including herself. She didn’t like for anyone to feel left out and often went out of her way to make others feel at ease. It was a talent that Éowyn envied.

Merrill glanced down at her watch. “Oh my, I didn’t realize it was so late. I have to get back to the diner. Corf’s probably having kittens because I’ve been gone so long.”

“I’d pay good money to see that,” Éowyn paused, wondering if it was worth asking Merrill about her family and if she was going to tell them and quickly decided against it. They had turned their backs on her friend when she didn’t fall in line with their way of doing things; they didn’t get to snub her and then bask in her success.

“I should go too, if that’s okay. I’m supposed to meet the lawyer about the estate. I’m hoping he can untangle some of the mess my mother left behind.”

“Go ahead. And it will all work out, I’m sure. I’ll get a key made for the office so you can let yourself in if I’m out and about. We’ll figure out the desk situation later.”

“Are you going to work for Hawke?”

“Ah, yes, a little. Just to keep busy.”

“That’s so nice. Hawke’s always helping people. Even if she’s grumpy about it.”

“Hey, I’m not always grumpy,” Éowyn protested.

“Of course not,” Merrill said, patting her gently on the arm. “Have you been to The Hanged Man? Hawke eats there a lot cause she’s absolute shite with cooking.”

“Merrill!”

“What? You are and don’t get me started on some of your food choices.”

“I’m not as bad as Varric and that sandwich of his.”

“True, but he also doesn’t live on coffee, whiskey, and the occasional burger. Thank the Creators that you don’t smoke.” She turned to Flora. “If you’re going to work for her you need to make sure she has more than coffee.”

“I think I can manage that,” Flora smiled, clearly enjoying the levity Merrill had brought with her. She flicked her eyes at Éowyn. “Maybe. She has a reputation for being stubborn.”

“Creators, yes, but I can give you some pointers if you like.”

Éowyn rubbed her hand over her face. She feared that she had made a horrible mistakes by introducing these two. “Alright, I think that’s enough harping on my diet for one day. Get out of here, both of you.”

Both women simply smiled at her as they gathered their things. Merrill gave her one last hug before leaving, nearly bouncing as she babbled to Flora about her paintings. Éowyn sighed heavily as silence fell around her. The thick envelope Emeric had handed her was sitting on her desk, waiting for her to start. Picking it up again she was somewhat surprised by the weight but then she shouldn’t have been considering how dogged he’d been in pursuing the killer. And now he had turned over the responsibility to her. She hadn’t sought this out but it was hers now and she’d do her damnedest to solve the case. These women deserved justice, their families deserved closure, and the killer deserved to rot in the dankest, most foul cell in the Gallows.

“Alright then, let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com. There be nerdy shit there. :)
> 
> 03/20/18: I decided that there should be some light shenanigans tossed in with all the heavy stuff, I hope it works.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if I'll be able to post next Tuesday due to me being out of commission starting tomorrow through Friday and I've still got a ways to go on chapter 5, so there will most likely be a two week wait for the next chapter. Short explanation is life sucks.
> 
> ANYWAY. I hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Éowyn leaned back in her chair and stared at the board that was slowly coming together. Her eyes felt gritty and raw. The oppressive summer heat made it difficult to sleep and her pitiful little fan did little more than push hot air around. She’d woken up in the pre-dawn hours with sweaty sheets twisted around her that had nothing to do with any dreams she might have had. Three hours later and two pots of coffee later she felt like her body was humming as the caffeine surged through her system.

It had been three days since Emeric had appeared at her door and she finally managed to get through most of his notes. She had a rough timeline of sorts, starting with the Jane Doe she and Varric and Carver had found three years ago until the present. Emeric’s notes lay out before her on her desk, a stack of notecards next to them as she worked to pull out the salient points to add them to the board. Emeric had been thorough, she’d give him that, but there was a lot that was wild speculation with little to no evidence to support his claims. Reading through his cramped and occasionally illegible notes she wondered yet again just how he’d been able to convince the guard to raid duPuis’ estate. She noted that Aveline had participated in the raid an wondered what, if any, information she’d be able to get from her friend. Considering that she was still working off the last favor she’d asked of her, that might take some doing. 

Closing her eyes, Éowyn thought back to that time. Three years ago the Kirkwall guard had been so corrupt it put some of the city’s gangs to shame. One out of five guard members were on the take and she’d witnessed first hand their corruption. Aveline was making great strides in stomping out the stink but it was dirty work and she could see how the effort drained her friend at times. As a joke one year she’d gotten her a plaque that just said “DON’T” for Aveline to keep on her desk. Aveline had been less than amused. Varric had thought it was hilarious.

Even with as much information that Emeric had given her there were still large gaps. Beneath the timeline stretched out across her board she had placed notecards with each of the victim’s names, professions, age, family, anything she could think of that might link them together. There had to be a pattern. She just couldn’t see it. She needed to fill in those gaps.

Set slightly off to the side were two cards. Each held the names of the two missing women Emeric had told her about. They weren’t confirmed victims of the killer. Not yet. She prayed that they never would be, but knowing this city the possibility was high.

Éowyn ran her fingers through her hair, rubbing her neck to try to get some of the tension out of it. She’d been sitting at her desk for too long, staring at the board even longer. She needed a break, a distraction, something to clear her head in hopes that something would come to her. Her best option at the moment was to start backwards with Mharen Barnes and Ninette de Carrac and that meant getting out and talking to those who knew them to try to get a handle on their routines and where things went wrong for them.

She couldn’t help but wonder why Emeric was so obsessed with solving this case. Obsessed to the point where he had lost his job. There was the obvious in that no one wanted a murdering psychopath on the streets but it seemed more personal to him for some reason.

Mharen Barnes’ card was pathetically thin but it wasn’t all that surprising considering she was a refugee from the war. Many Fereldans had fled the chaos and violence hoping for a new start in the Free Marches or wherever they landed and the records from that time were messy at best, chaotic at worst. Some places like Ostwick and Nevarra had been more welcoming, but those closest to Ferelden, Orlais and Kirkwall specifically, looked down on these desperate people and showed very little charity toward those who needed most. From what little she could suss out from Emeric’s notes, Mharen had worked odd jobs, taking work where she could. No family to speak of and according to Emeric’s notes there were few that knew her. Éowyn had a suspicion that those that did were reluctant to speak to any law enforcement, especially one from the templar order. Hopefully she would have better luck once she hit the streets.

Ninette de Carrac, on the other hand, would most likely be easier to track. According to the notes her husband was an Orlesian of some very minor importance and had reported his wife’s disappearance, even offered an award for any information. Éowyn snorted. If she had to hazard a guess the man was probably offering it in an attempt save his own ass rather than any sincere need to have his wife back safe and sound. Regardless, it gave her a place to start.

“Ugh, why are Orlesians such assholes?” she asked the empty room as she made her way over to the coffee pot only to find that it was empty. Swearing, she went to make more only to swear again when she discovered that she was out of coffee. “I guess this is where having an assistant comes in handy,” she grumbled as she gathered up her bag and camera. Might as well get some work done in addition to her hunt for more coffee.

~~~

Éowyn leaned against the corner of a building, paper cup of coffee in one hand as she studied the building across the street. Ghyslain de Carrac perched on the corner of what looked to be a secretary’s desk, leering down at her as she filed papers. Just watching the man made her want to punch him. Why did men do that? The amount of confidence some had in their own appeal continually astonished her. It was superficial of her but de Carrac was nothing special to look at and from the looks of the woman he was standing over she thought much the same. 

“There’s the look of a man who’s torn up over his wife’s disappearance,” she muttered as she took another gulp of coffee, grimacing as it went down. It wasn’t exactly like drinking motor oil but it was close. Deciding that keeping the lining of her stomach was better than keeping caffeinated, she tossed the half-full cup into a nearby garbage bin as she watched de Carrac finally push off the poor girl’s desk, glancing at his watch as he did. Éowyn dug her camera out of her bag, taking a few quick shots as the man made his way through the office and to the front door. He paused just outside the entrance, digging through his pockets until he pulled out a thin metal case. Éowyn wrinkled her nose as he inhaled and closed his eyes as he slowly let out a stream of smoke, glad she was upwind from him. 

“Ugh. So disgusting,” she said as she took another picture, glad that she was across the street from the growing cloud of smoke that surrounded de Carrac’s head.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve heard that some Orlesian blends are quite nice.”

Éowyn glanced over her shoulder, giving her sudden shadow a sour look. The smell of motor oil and elfroot assaulted her nose as Anders came up to her side. She’d hardly seen him since the Harimann incident and she could swear that he looked thinner. Not sick really, but there were more shadows under his eyes than she remembered seeing.

“You’re a doctor. Aren’t you supposed to advise people against smoking?”

“Are you kidding? Half the doctors I know smoke. Nicotine is a powerful drug.”

“And they wonder why people don’t trust doctors.”

“I believe you’re thinking of lawyers.”

Éowyn huffed. “Same difference. Both tell you things you don’t want to hear.”

“Your distrust of the two most vied for professions never fails to amaze me. If I was still practicing I would probably be offended.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I put lawyer higher on the scum list than doctors.”

“I am now filled with sunshine and happiness. Next best thing was if you gave me a cat.”

“I’m not getting you a cat.”

“I guess my life is over now,” he sighed. “So what’s your smokestack done to warrant your attention.”

Éowyn hesitated briefly before speaking. “His wife’s missing. Just trying to get a foundation laid before I talk to him.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing slightly. “If you haven’t talked to him, why are you looking for his alleged missing wife? Isn’t missing persons in the guard’s purview?”

“Normally, yes, but an interested third party hired me,” she said as she slid her camera into her bag and started down the sidewalk, following de Carrac from across the street. She didn’t want to get into it with him. If he knew that she was looking into the Drowned Mermaid murders, he’d never leave her alone. He had taken a somewhat morbid fascination with the murders, one that he hadn’t shaken over the years. Somewhat to her dismay, Anders fell in step beside her.

“What, like a friend or family member?”

“Sure,” she said, picking up her pace as de Carrac wove into a crowd of people.

“Not really an answer.”

“Don’t you have an oil pan to drop on your head or something? Why are you even up here in Hightown?”

“That was one time and despite what the Chantry would have you believe, it’s a free city. And why are you treating me like some annoying kid brother?” There was a petulance to his voice that suddenly grated on her nerves that made her stop mid-stride and whirled around to him. She moved so quickly that he was forced to peddle backwards a bit.

“Because you’re acting like one. Look, you’re a good friend Anders but you’re interfering in my work, work that I take seriously and I don’t owe you my time.”

Anders gaped at her. “I’ve never said that.”

“No, but it was implied. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you, Anders. You know that I don’t like people tagging along when I’m working.” She turned back to the street and tried to sight de Carrac, swearing viciously when he was nowhere to be found. A mother passing by clamped her hands over her child’s ears as she glared daggers at Éowyn but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. The kid was going to hear bad language eventually.

“Well, yeah, but it wasn’t like I was seeking you out. It just happened that we crossed paths. I was coming from a meeting. Not everything I do revolves around you,” he snapped.

Éowyn’s jaw tightened as her fists clenched into balls and silently counted to five, and then to ten. She wasn’t being unreasonable when she told him to back off and he had caused her to lose de Carrac, but she really shouldn’t give into the temptation to deck him, even if he was being snotty about the whole thing.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They stood there on the sidewalk and just glared at each other, forcing others on the sidewalk to swerve around them. Éowyn held his gaze before turning on her heel, hoping that she’d be able to catch up with de Carrac. If not, at least she knew where he lived and could corner him there. It wasn’t ideal, she had wanted to talk to him somewhere where he wasn’t on familiar ground but it couldn’t be helped.

“You know, ever since you started hanging around that Chantry lacky it’s like you’ve forgotten about the rest of us.”

It took everything she had not to turn around and hit him. Forgotten about her friends? What in the actual hell was he talking about?

“I’m not sure why you’re trying to bust my chops over this, but, again, I don’t answer to you. If anyone has forgotten their friends it’s you, cupcake. You go off to these mysterious meetings of yours and when we do get together, you scowl at everyone like they pissed in your cornflakes. Have you even congratulated Merrill on her art showing? Are you even going to come or are you going to pout in your garage?”

“I have no interest in art.”

“That’s not the point, Anders. Friends support each other and Merrill’s worked very hard and has had to get over a lot to get where she is.” They were nearly standing nose to nose now, her voice purposely low but no less intense. Anders had a bad habit of playing the wounded party when he more often than not played the manipulative card to get people to feel sorry for him. He hadn’t always been this way but in the last few years it had gotten worse.

“You know what? Don’t bother coming. It’s Merrill’s night and she doesn’t need your sour face dimming it.”

She turned away for the third time and this time kept walking even after he called after her. Risking serious injury, she cut across the street, narrowly avoiding one of the oncoming cars and ignored the blaring of car horns that followed in her wake. For the sake of their friendship she didn’t want to be around him while he was like this. She knew he went through a lot in the war as well but she refused to feed into his martyr complex.

The street opened up into a boulevard as she reached the center of Hightown ten minutes later. The Keep, as everyone called city hall, cast a long shadow over the courtyard, but not as long as that of the Chantry’s. Even in the shade she was sweating through her shirt, but at least she could take solace in the fact that everyone else was in the same boat. As she turned the corner toward where she knew de Carrac lived, a huge blast of wind hit her, nearly knocking her back in its fury. As she braced herself, the hat of the woman walking in front of her flew off, nearly smacking Éowyn in the face before the wind took it down the street. The woman started to go after it, but upon seeing that it was already more than half a block away, she let out a resigned sigh and continued on her way. 

She was about to cross the street and head toward where the richer homes in Hightown were when she heard a familiar voice call out her name. The smile that rose on her lips quickly turned to an open-mouthed gape as she watched Sebastian approach her with Leandra on his arm. Her brain fizzled at the sight, unable to really process what she was seeing.

Had she dropped into some alternate universe?

Sebastian was smiling as they approached, leaning down to kiss her cheek, his lips lingering a bit on her skin. His smile grew wider at the bewildered look on her face when he pulled back.

“There you are. I’d wondered if I’d see you today. I thought perhaps I’d have to ambush you with dinner later at your place.” His fingers grazed across her cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the tips of them ghosting over the shell of her ear. Despite her bewilderment, a slight shudder ran through her at his touch. 

“Oh, well, I’m here. Ah, I’m on a case. A case up here. Following a lead.” Éowyn knew that there were words coming out of her mouth and knew that they were making little coherent sense but it was taking her a bit to reconcile what she was seeing before her.

“Oh, Éowyn, do close your mouth. You look like a fish.”

“An adorable fish,” Sebastian smiled.

Éowyn closed her mouth, clearing her throat as she did so. “What are you two doing here?” she finally managed.  _ Together _ , she thought silently.

“We ran into each other this morning and Sebastian here was kind enough to escort me to services. You know how I don’t like going alone.”

“He took you to services?”

“Yes, I normally go in the morning when it’s cooler but I had a meeting with my garden club today so I had to go to a later service,” Leandra told her, patting Sebastian’s arm. “Did you know that he has a lovely singing voice? Simply lovely.”

Sebastian flushed at the praise. “I have a passable enough singing voice, enough not to embarrass myself in public.”

“Nonsense, false modesty doesn’t become you, young man.” Leandra turned to Éowyn. “It’s good to see you, even if it’s only by luck.”

Éowyn inwardly fidgeted, uncertain how to respond. They hadn’t seen much of each other since she had moved out and part of that was by design. It unnerved her a little how Leandra flipped a switch whenever Sebastian was around; she always put on her best face whenever she was in Sebastian’s presence. She hadn’t the thought before but a dark part of her tended to wonder if Leandra preferred Sebastian to her own daughter.

“Yes, well, I’ve been busy, putting my office back in order and settling in and all that.”

“I hear that you’ve taken in Flora Harimann. Are you sure that is wise? The poor girl has been through a lot.”

“Flora’s made of sterner stuff than people, including herself, give her credit for. She’ll be fine.”

“Well,” Leandra sniffed. “She’s certainly been through a lot. The gossip around that whole nasty business is starting to fade a litte. That will change once the trail starts up however.”

“Trail? What trail?”

“Why for her brother and father of course. From what I hear, the guard found some most unpleasant things when searching the Harimann estate.” She shook her head. “I didn’t much care for either of them but if half of what I hear is true, Flora is truly lucky to have survived that family.”

The wheels in Éowyn’s head started spinning. She’d tried to keep up with the fallout from what had happened at the estate and knew that both of the Harimann men had been arrested and had been keeping the guardhouse rats company ever since but hadn’t heard anything about a trail. It was somewhat curious that Flora hadn’t mentioned it. Ever since she had started working for her three days ago she’d nattered on about anything and everything, but now that she thought on it, Éowyn realized that Flora hadn’t talked about her brother and father at all. 

Upon further reflection she decided that she really couldn’t blame Flora for not saying anything. Who would want to dredge up all that ugliness if they didn’t want or need to? She would talk about it if and when she wanted to.

“Well then, enough of that unpleasantness. I understand that your friend Merrill is having an art showing at Xenon’s gallery. She must be very excited.”

“You could say that. If she were any more excited she’d be having kittens.”

“The girl is talented, Xenon wouldn’t have wanted to show her paintings if he didn’t see something unique in them. I’m looking forward to it.”

Éowyn couldn’t keep the shock off her face. “You’ll be going?”

“Of course I will. I never miss an art showing at Xenon’s if I can help it, you know that. The fact that it’s one of your friends makes it even more special.”

Éowyn wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that. Leandra had never really shown an interest in her friends and had, in fact, shown open disdain for some of them. She couldn’t help but wonder what caused this change of heart. Glancing at Sebastian she received only a shrug and a knowing smile. Before she could think to say anything, she spotted de Carrac exiting from the Keep, a heavy scowl spread across his face. Well, that was interesting and definitely worth checking out.

Turning back to her mother, she gave her a slightly strained smile while keeping her eyes on her target. “Sorry to cut this short but I need to go, duty calls.”

There was the slightest thinning of Leandra’s lips before she nodded. “Of course, I’m sure you have a lot to do. I myself have a meeting and then tea with the de Launcets. Dulci has been asking after you, by the way. Something about a dinner party.”

Éowyn let out a low strangled sound and darted a glance at Sebastian. The man had the gall to grin at her as he reached out and took up her hand, his thumb brushing over the skin there. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. My schedule has been rather hectic what with going back and forth to Starkhaven on business.”

“No need to prevaricate, Sebastian, I quite understand. Dulci’s dinner parties can be, well, trying is one word for it. I can’t blame you for dodging her when I’ve done the same from time to time. The woman is exhausting in her dimwitted exuberance. The sooner she gets over this despair ham fad the better.”

Éowyn wasn’t sure exactly what her mother meant by despair ham, but it sounded like an Orlesian thing, something she wanted nothing to do with. She opened her mouth to respond when de Carrac spotted her from across the street, and even from this distance she could see the anger on his face. As he crossed the street, Éowyn shifted her weight slightly in anticipation of an attack.

“You. I would have words with you.”

“Ah, shit.”

“I assume this has to do with your current case?” Sebastian asked, his own posture straightening as the Orlesian approached.

“Éowyn, why is Ghyslain de Carrac shouting at you?”

“I suspect that it has something to do with his missing wife,” Éowyn muttered.

Leandra’s eyes widened. “Why in the Maker’s name would he think that you have anything to do with that? Rumor is that she left him for some singer.”

Éowyn shook her head. “It shouldn’t surprise me that you know such things and yet every time it does,” she said as de Carrac came up to them.

“You, you’re that private investigator from Lowtown. Maybe you can help me. The guard in this city are completely useless and idiotic.” He was laser-focused on her, seemingly not even seeing either Leandra or Sebastian.

Éowyn raised an eyebrow at that. This was unexpected. She wouldn’t have thought that de Carrac would seek her out. It did simplify matters for her in that she didn’t have to track him down.

“Yes, I would be that private investigator. How can I help you, Mr…?”

“Ghyslain de Carrac,” he snapped out. “A name that should mean more in this uncivilized city than it does. I require your services and I’m tired of the guard ignoring me. It’s my wife, you see, she’s missing.”

It was interesting watching the emotions crossing his face. He looked more annoyed by the fact that no one was attending to his needs as he saw fit than worry for his supposedly missing wife. Based on his attitude she wondered if perhaps that Ninette wasn’t one of the killer’s victim but instead a woman who was fed up with her pompous ass of a husband and left him. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

“I can certainly help you, Mr de Carrac, but missing persons are usually the purview of the guard. They have more resources th-.”

“Not according to that idiot I spoke to at the desk. He said that Ninette had to be missing for seventy-two hours before they could do anything. Then he had the audacity to insinuate that she ran away with another man. I refuse to work with them. I have never been more insulted in my life.”

_ I sincerely doubt that, _ she thought to herself. Most Orlesians lived and died by insults. Sebastian must have had a similar thought as he covered a laugh with a cough and if she wasn’t mistaken she caught her mother giving the slightest roll of the eye at de Carrac’s words. If there was one thing she and her mother agreed on, it was the often ridiculousness of Orlesians. At least that of the upper class and those aspiring to be.

“I don’t like stepping on the guard’s toes but I suppose I can look into it, but here in the middle of the street is probably not the best place to discuss this. I assume you want discretion in this matter.”

“Of course. My wife’s family is rather particular about matters of propriety.”

_ I’m sure they are. _

“If I may, my townhome is just around the corner. I believe you left some of your paperwork there, Éowyn. It would simplify matters I would think. No wasted time going down to your office,” Sebastian said. Startled, de Carrac looked at him as if suddenly realizing that he was there. His eyes darted between the three of them, caught between the propriety of acknowledging his rudeness and not wanting to look the fool for not noticing either Sebastian or Leandra. “It’s really no trouble,” Sebastian continued.

Éowyn fluttered a moment between annoyed and concerned. Annoyed as it was on the tip of her tongue to chastise him for involving himself in her work, she had done as much with Anders less than thirty minutes ago, but the man had a point. The concern came from the same place, in that she wanted to keep the ugliness of her job and world away from him. Then again, she had tried that once and look where that got them; him getting shot and her losing her heart to him. 

Thinking on it further, it would be a time saver and Sebastian had a better selection of the wine she was sure she was going to want after she was done speaking with de Carrac. 

“Very well. If that works for you, Mr de Carrac, I’m game.”

“Yes, yes, by all means. I would like to be able to tell Ninette’s family something before they do something drastic. I just want this nightmare to be over.”

“I should be off as well. The decorator is coming by to help me choose some new curtains for the library. And then I have to meet up Dulci for tea,” Leandra said before looking up to Sebastian. “Thank you again for accompanying me to services.”

“It was my pleasure Leandra, and I’d be more than happy to accompany you again if you should like.”

“That is very kind of you and I just might take you up on that,” she responded as Éowyn willed her eye not to twitch. Maker forgive her, but the thought of her mother and Sebastian attending Chantry services together put a knot in her stomach. “I will see you at the art opening then?”

“Ah, yes. I guess we’ll both see you there,” she said, raising a questioning eyebrow at Sebastian, smiling at his affirmative nod. He didn’t have to attend the showing, but he was, and showing such kindness to her friends was just one of the many things she loved about him.

Leandra gave them a smile as she moved away and into the crowd. Éowyn looked after her for a minute, a strange feeling coming over her. It wasn’t anything she could really put a name to, it was just a feeling. Shaking it off, she turned to de Carrac.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I know this is a bit late. Recovery and then stupid tax stuff put me further behind that I expected. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with updating weekly but I am going to try my very best so stick with me. :)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Comments/kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com. There be nerdy shit there. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Éowyn watched de Carrac with narrowed eyes as he fidgeted in his chair. Now that he was actually getting the audience he thought he deserved his nerves were starting to show. Oh, he tried to cover it up with a cloak of arrogance and bravado but the way his eyes shifted gave him away. Sebastian had given them the use of his office and where normally she tried to put her clients at ease, she sat behind his large desk, leaning back in the chair, putting distance between her and de Carrac. The longer she spent in his company the less she liked him, especially when he ranted on for several minutes about how Ninette belonged to him. She almost threw him out of the house at that point but she needed information from him.

“So, what you’re telling me is that, despite Ninette having disappeared for several days several times, this time it’s different? Different how?”

“You sound just like that idiot at the guardhouse. Did Ninette and I have problems? Yes, what married couple doesn’t? Has she cheated before? Yes, but she always came back. It’s that singer at The Blooming Rose this time, he’s bewitched her. Trying to take her and her money.”

“A singer?”

“Yes, Jethann is his name. Ridiculous name. Almost as ridiculous as his so-called profession.”

Éowyn had to bite her tongue in order not to say that Ghyslain was just as ridiculous in her opinion. “And what proof of this alleged relationship do you have?”

“Proof? Proof! He sent her flowers, chocolates! Wooed her as if she were some blushing maid, something she hasn’t been in decades. No. He’s hypnotized her, luring her away with promises he cannot possibly follow through on. If her family finds out…”

She leaned forward then, placing her forearms on the desk, her eyes going hard. She knew Jethann and while he was a consummate flirt and indulged himself whenever and with whoever, he wasn’t the type to intentionally cause harm. If he did indeed send Ninette flowers it was because he knew that she was stuck in a loveless marriage and wanted to see her smile.

“If her family finds out what exactly, Mr de Carrac?”

de Carrac shifted uncomfortably in his chair before sighing heavily. “Ninette’s family and I, we don’t get along. It’s no great secret Miss Hawke, ask anyone. They think that I married Ninette for her money.”

“Did you?”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “It wasn’t always like this. We were in love, once upon a time.”

Éowyn was briefly tempted to feel sorry for him as the melancholy look spread across his face but then something flickered in his eyes, something ugly and petty, reminding her of just how distasteful this man was.

“When was the last time you saw Ninette?”

“Two nights ago. I was on my way out when those blasted flowers arrived. You’d think they were diamonds with the way she cooed over those damned things. When I got back later that night she was gone and I haven’t seen her since.”

Éowyn’s stomach clenched at his words and she had to swallow heavily before she continued. “What kind of flowers?”

He glared at her. “How in Andraste’s name should I know? White, I think. Why would that be important? I don’t pay attention to such things.”

Éowyn tapped her fingers on the desk, gathering her thoughts before proceeding. “Okay, I’ll speak with Jethann, see what he knows and go from there. I can’t-.”

“Fine, that’s fine. I just want someone actually taking this seriously.” de Carrac stood up, reaching into his coat and pulled out his wallet. He tossed a handful of bills onto the table, a move that had a practiced look to it that made her skin crawl. Éowyn stared at them for a second then looked back up at him.

“There’s five hundred. That should cover your expenses. I must get back to the office; I have many things that need attending. You will let me know when you find anything,” he said, his tone making it more of an order than a request. Éowyn swallowed the snarky remark that sprouted on her tongue as she stood, escorting him to the door. She couldn’t get him out of the house fast enough in her opinion.

“Of course. And if you think of anything else that might be pertinent, let me know. Even the slightest detail could make a difference.”

Éowyn shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, resting her head on it as she closed her eyes. There was no rule that said she had to like her clients but it did help. Despite the heat outside, she felt like she needed to take a hot shower to wash away the bad taste he left in his wake. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if it turned out that Ninette had actually left him. If she had been married to him she would have disappeared too.

“The meeting went that well did it?”

Éowyn cracked open an eye to see Sebastian leaning against the doorway, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Even from this far away she could see the play of muscle on his arms as he folded them across his chest; his bronzed skin standing out in sharp contrast to his white shirt. His hair was slightly less tidy than normal as the scent of something delicious wafted in from the kitchen.

“He’s a despicable toad of a man. Fortunately it’s not required for me to like my clients.”

“Your client? I thought that you were hired to investigate him?”

Éowyn scowled at him. “I never said that.”

“True, but you got this gleam in your eye when he approached us on the street.”

“What gleam would that be?”

“The one where you’ve got your quarry in your sights.”

She smiled at that, pushing away from the door and approached him slowly. “Oh? And you’ve known me long enough to know that?”

“I’m a quick study,” he said. “Especially when the subject is irresistable.”

She raised an eyebrow at that as she stepped up to him and slid her hands up his chest. He untucked his arms and pulled her in close, his hands resting on her lower back. “Irresistible? I’ve been called many things before, most of them pretty derogatory but I don’t think anyone has ever called me irresistible.”

“I’m forced to conclude then that all those people are sorely lacking in good judgement,” he murmured, his nose brushing against hers as his hands slid lower and cupped her ass, pulling her flush against him. Éowyn linked her hands around his neck and leaned up to place the softest of kisses on his lips. They tasted of honey and cloves.

“You’ve been baking,” she said, running her tongue over his lower lip. “Not that I’m complaining but it’s over 80 degrees outside. Why in Andraste’s name would you turn on the oven?”

“I had a craving for those Antivan honey and spice cookies and I know how much you like them too,” he said dipping his head to nuzzle her neck.

“Are you trying to bribe me, Mr Vael?” she asked, her breath hitching when he nipped at the delicate skin where her shoulder and neck joined. One of his hands snaked up her back, his fingers tangling with her hair. Éowyn let her head drop back to give his mouth better access.

“That wasn’t my initial intention but if it works I’m not going to argue with the results. Will you stay?”

“You’re not going to put walnuts on them like the last time, are you?”

“I think I can arrange that, though I’m not sure I understand your aversion to them.”

“Nuts don’t belong in baked goods. Just like carrots don’t belong in cakes. Whoever thought that up should be punished.” His hot breath ghosted over her skin as he worked his way up her neck, placing light kisses as he went.

“You’re opinions on baked goods are surprisingly strong. And you haven’t answered my question.”

Éowyn groaned, and not just because of what he was doing to her. Sighing she pulled back, resting her hands on his shoulders and dropped her head against his chest.

“I would love nothing more but I can’t. I have to go to Darktown and talk to some people.”

Sebastian’s fingers tightened on her shirt. “Darktown. Are you sure that’s where you need to go? What exactly _is_ your case?” he asked, his brow wrinkled.

She pushed back further, dropping her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “It involves a couple of missing women and one of them lived in Darktown. I go where the case takes me Sebastian, and this one is taking me there. I’m not some kid fresh off the farm. I know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that, I just-.”

“Just what?” she pounced when he gave the slightest pause. Andraste’s ass, if he was going to start in on how dangerous her job was she was going to punch something.

“I just worry. Is that so wrong?”

“No, but I would hope that you would trust me enough to take care of myself. They know me down there, they trust me and they don’t trust many in this city.”

Now it was Sebastian’s turn to frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Something began to boil in her brain. Was he really that naive?

“It means that Kirkwall has been less than hospitable to the Ferelden refugees and anyone else they deem as ‘other’. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but the Chantry’s charity doesn’t extend far beyond the line between Hightown and Lowtown, much less Darktown.”

“I know that the Chantry hasn’t done as much as it should and I’ve urged the Grand Cleric to make more outreach to the refugees but many of the sisters are scared to go there.”

“Then maybe they shouldn’t be sisters if they can’t follow the vows they made to Andraste and the Maker,” she snapped. “Maker’s balls, the amount of hypocrisy in the Chantry never fails to amaze me.”

“It’s not that simple-.”

Éowyn stabbed her finger at him. “No, it _is_ that simple. It wasn’t that long ago that I lived with one foot in Darktown. We lost everything when we fled Ferelden. It was only in the last couple of years that my mother was able to reclaim the inheritance left to her. It was a fucking miracle that there was anything left after my idiot uncle nearly squandered it all away.”

“Éowyn, I, I am sorry. I know that the Chantry failed you and the refugees and that it needs to do better.”

“Do better? Do _better?_ Sebastian, the only Chantry person I’ve seen that shows a passing interest is that Sister Petrice and that’s only because she wants to throw all of them into the Gallows. And the Grand Cleric does very little to restrain her. You’ve got a templar Knight Commander with similar sentiments who also wants to make Kirkwall dry again. The Chantry is _broken_ Sebastian.”

Pure shock ran over his face. He stared at her as if he didn’t recognize her. Guilt flushed through her but she stood her ground.

“I thought you believed in the Maker.”

“I didn’t say that. I don’t have a problem with the Maker or Andraste, it’s the Chantry I have a problem with. I have faith, just not in the Chantry.”

There was a moment of silence before he finally spoke. “So what must you think of me for committing my life to it for so long? And for continuing to support it.”

“I think that how you practice your faith is your business. If going to services is what does it for you, that’s your business, but I can’t support an institution that has abandoned hundreds of people and who houses and protects zealots who attack those they deem as other.

“Have there been some sisters who follow the tenants the Chantry claims to uphold? Yes. But they are few and far between and were nowhere to be found when my father was dying. Instead we were faced with people so stuck in the idea of who the right people are that my father died in unnecessary pain as the cancer ate him away. I began to see the true face of the Chantry then and nothing that I’ve seen in Kirkwall has improved my opinion.”

Éowyn could feel her face growing hot and her chest tightening, tears threatening. She hadn’t dredged up the memory of her father’s last days in a long time, but this fight was bringing it all back. And it was a fight, one that was causing a schism between them that was growing as it went on.

“Why do you think I do what I do? Why Anders runs an illegal clinic behind his garage? Why Varric hires street kids to run errands for him? Because no one else will do what’s necessary to help these people. Carver and I were lucky in that we were able to find work when we came to this city relatively quickly. Not many were given the same opportunity.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Sebastian was quiet but the look on his face spoke volumes. His first commitment as an adult had been to the Chantry, she should have remembered that.

“I’ll admit that the Chantry has it’s faults and should do better, but abandoning it? I can’t do that.”

“And that’s your prerogative. But…” That knot in her chest was only growing larger and tighter. “I have to go. I can’t talk to you about this.”

“Éowyn, wait. Don’t leave like this.”

“I have to before I say something I’ll regret. I think we should just take a break,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. She couldn’t look at him. Not now. Not when a piece of her heart was breaking. She loved him but maybe they were just too different for this to last.

Éowyn headed for the door, snagging her bag from the side table where she had left it when she came in. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sebastian pull something out of his pocket and held it in the palm of his hand, a look she couldn’t quite decipher spreading across his face and one she couldn’t stick around to try to. No. Her leaving was the best option for them right now. Maybe… maybe later they could come to some sort of consensus on this.

Maybe.

* * *

Éowyn made it back to her office in record time. For once the streets were relatively clear. People apparently crying uncle in the face of the heat and relentless wind and stayed indoors for once. The office door stuck as she tried to enter, forcing her to ram it with her shoulder. Pain blossomed briefly and she took some solace in it. She’d take physical pain over heartache any day.

Flora was sitting at the desk they had managed to drag, push, and pull up to the office, her fingers flying over the secondhand typewriter she had found in some junk shop. The younger woman darted her a quick smile as Éowyn entered and then gave her a second look when she saw the dark look on her face.

“What’s wrong? You look, well, you look angry and sad.”

“It’s nothing,” Éowyn said briscally, rummaging through her bag and removing her camera. With more care than normal, she set it on the desk, not trusting herself to not break it in her current mood.

“I don’t think it’s nothing but I’m not going to pry if you don’t want to talk about it.” Flora gave the slightest of pauses before she continued. “I’ve got those invoices all typed out. I was going to put them in the post today.”

“Fine. That’s fine,” Éowyn said, only half listening to what Flora was telling her. “I need to go to Darktown and talk to some people. I don’t know when I’ll be back so be sure to lock up before you leave.”

There was a slightly longer pause this time before Flora voiced agreement, her hazel eyes filled with worry. “I was going to meet Merrill tonight and get some dinner. You’re more than welcome to join us after you’re done.”

Éowyn suppressed a grimace. She knew that she was in no shape for company and would be even less so once she got back from Darktown. “I appreciate the offer, Flora, I really do, but I have a lot of work to do. I’ll just grab something from The Hanged Man on my way back.”

Flora looked like she wanted to say something more but took the better part of valor and held it back. A tiny sliver of doubt ran through Éowyn but she shut it down quickly. She had a job to do and couldn’t let emotion get in the way.

Deciding to leave her bag behind, she dug into her desk and pulled out her holster and revolver. She wasn’t expecting trouble in Darktown but she always prepared for it. With practiced ease she shrugged on the holster and straightened her linen jacket over it. She knew she’d sweat through it within five minutes of stepping outside but she’d much rather be drenched in sweat than dead. True there were many in Darktown who knew her and wouldn’t so much as look at her sideways, but there were an equal amount of people who wouldn’t be put out if she was found half buried in a garbage heap somewhere.

“What are you looking for in Darktown?” Flora braved. Glancing at her, Éowyn saw her chewing on her lower lip, worry written over her face.

“Going to ask around about Mharen Barnes; see if I’ll have better luck than the former Knight-Lieutenant.”

“Well, if anyone can, it’d be you. You’re a miracle worker.”

Éowyn snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far but I do what I can. I’ll see you Monday,” she said, making her way back to the door. As her hand touched to knob she turned back to Flora, the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Have fun tonight with Merrill. You both deserve a good night out.”

Flora flushed and stammered a thank you out as Éowyn left the office. The half smile on her lips grew as she walked down the dimly lit hallway. At least she could take solace in the fact that someone was happy.

* * *

 Three frustrating and sweaty hours later she was beginning to think that Mharen Barnes was a collective hallucination by the people of Darktown. People had heard of her sure, but less than a handful of people had actually had contact with the woman and even fewer said they knew her enough to be friendly. She had found the flop where she was said to had lived but the woman there now wouldn’t give her the time of day until she slipped her a twenty. Even then it was only to say that Mharen had left several days ago without a word to anyone which in the woman’s mind meant that her place was up for grabs.

“What a peach of a woman,” she said as she walked away, wondering if anything would come out of this venture. It was close to shift change though so maybe she’d come across someone who hadn’t been around earlier in the afternoon.

Éowyn sighed, wishing for a tall glass of water or lemonade or something cool to drink. Her shirt was nearly soaked through at the armpits and her lower back. Her revolver sat heavy at her side, an ever present reminder of the danger that she could run into down here. Darktown was an odd place. Geographically it sat close to the docks and in any other city it would be a bursting center of activity and commerce but here in Kirkwall it was a place where the disadvantaged and desperate lived, where the devious and dangerous preyed upon the weak. She hated coming down here, hated what it represented and seeing two children sitting listlessly on the curb, their hands extended in hopes of a passerby’s charity sparked the banked anger from her argument with Sebastian.

He’d be horrified, rightfully so, to see the people down here and the conditions they lived in. A part of her wanted to drag him down here and force him to open his eyes and see for himself how the city and the Chantry had failed these people. She honestly didn’t know if it would change his mind about how the Chantry operated and how it was so toxic instead of a place where all were welcomed regardless of their background or station in life.

Maybe it would make a difference, maybe not, but she couldn’t afford to think about that now. It was only going to piss her off and distract her from the job at hand.

Off to her right she heard the slight shuffling of feet and when she turned her head she saw a short shadow slink back. She stopped at the corner and looked at her watch before swearing under her breath, acting as if she was waiting for someone and they were late. In actuality she kept the spot where the shadow had slinked back in her field of vision, waiting to see what they would do.

After another minute she sighed. She was too hot and too tired to play this game and wait out whoever it was until they decided to come out of the shadows.

“Alright whoever you are, unless you’re going to actually talk to me I have things that need doing.” She waited another beat or so before stepping off the curb and started walking away.

“Wait!” a small voice cracked. “Don’t go.”

Éowyn turned toward the voice and watched as a thin, almost wraith-like girl emerged from the shadows but still clung to the wall next to her. Her cheeks were sunken in and there was a gauntness to her frame that clutched at her heart. Despite the girl’s apparent skittishness there was a sharp canniness behind her eyes that belied an intelligence that resided there. It was probably that canniness that had allowed her to survive on the streets this long.

She waited patiently, not wanting to scare the kid off. It was hard to judge her age but if she were forced to guess the girl couldn’t be more than thirteen.

“It’s okay, Lessa, I told you that you can trust Hawke. She keeps her promises,” said a familiar voice, one that made Éowyn want to box the ears belonging to it.

“Andraste’s ass, Owen. What are you doing down here?”

Owen stepped out from the shadows, his mop of curly red hair in even more disarray than normal. Dirt was smudged on his face and there was a suspicious looking dark spot around his eye. Éowyn clenched her jaw and tried to remain calm.

“Lessa’s my friend. She said there was some lady down here asking questions about a missing Ferelden and I just knew it had to be you.” Owen paused, nudging Lessa with his elbow. “Go on, tell her.”

Lessa bit her lip as her eyes darted back and forth. “I knew that woman, Mharen. She was nice to me. Gave me a place to sleep when…” Lessa trailed off, taking a deep breath. “She was nice.”

“When did you last see her?”

“About a week ago. I went to her place to see if I could stay there again but she was gone. All her stuff was on the street and someone else was there.” She looked down at her feet, the shoes scuffed and the of her pants hung two inches above her ankles, the edges frayed from age and use. “They weren’t as nice.”

“I keep tellin ya that my ma will let you stay with us.”

Lessa just shook her head, a faint flush rising on her cheeks. Éowyn recognized the look, it was one of stubborn pride. Some might wonder what the difference was in bunking with Mharen versus Owen and his mom but she knew that the girl probably saw that Mharen was in the same situation as her whereas Owen led a more financially secure existence.

The problem with pride is that it could get you killed if you didn’t know when to bend.

“What is it that you want to tell me, Lessa?”

“Mharen, well, there was this guy. He kept chatting her up, pretending to be nice.”

“What do you mean pretending?”

“He smiled too much with his mouth and not with his eyes.”

Éowyn grimaced. She knew exactly the kind of look Lessa was describing. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

“That’s the funny thing. He was all covered up. Wore a coat with the collar turned up and kept his hat pulled low. It was weird cause it’s so hot, you see,” she said eagerly. It was as if the damn had broken and all the words she’d been holding were spilling out all at once. “The coat was kinda dirty but it was nice. You could tell that he made it dirty on purpose.”

That tracked, Éowyn thought. If Mharen Barnes was indeed a victim of the killer and he had been stalking her it only made sense for him to try to disguise himself. He took a risk coming to Darktown. There were two type of people in Darktown: those that kept their heads down and hoped not to be noticed and those whose heads were on a swivel and didn’t miss a thing. Lessa appeared to belong to the latter group.

She was about to ask for more details when a scream echoed throughout the area. It wasn’t a scream of surprise, or not only. It was one of panic and fear. The person, a woman she thought, screamed again and it sounded like it was coming from the pier.

Éowyn pointed at the two kids, giving them a hard glare. “You two. You stay here,” she ordered before taking off toward the screaming. People who had been grouped on stoops stood as she passed, their expressions ranging from concern to curiosity to fear. None of them moved though. It was an unspoken rule in Darktown that you ran away from danger, not toward it.

Sea air smacked her as she reached the pier, the salty-briny smell assaulting her nose. About twenty yards away she could see the screaming woman sitting on the ground, pressed up against one of the pillars where people tied their boats up to. She clung to it as if it were a life raft as her voice started to go raw from screaming. When she saw Éowyn approaching she just pointed at the water with one hand as she tucked her head into her other arm, her screams turning into sobs.

“Come on, you don’t need to be here,” she said gently, helping the woman up and directing her away from edge of the pier. She made it as far as the sidewalk before the woman collapsed on all fours, retching through her sobs.

Taking a deep breath, Éowyn approached the edge slowly, dreading what she was going to find. Something was gently bumping against the shore. Without regard to her shoes, Éowyn hopped down to the beach and approached the large plastic wrapped bundle, already knowing what she was going to find. Carefully she pulled back the flap of plastic that had come loose from the rope wrapped around it. She jerked back as several tiny crustaceans burst out from underneath the plastic, scuttling across what remained of Mharen Barnes. Her once brown eyes were now opaque, staring out blindly as her body continued to rock gently in the water. Her long blood-stained blonde hair was wrapped around her throat but Éowyn could still see the gaping cuts the killer had made.

“Andraste have mercy,” she whispered as she went to put back the plastic but not before there was a loud shriek behind her. Éowyn looked back to see both Owen and Lessa standing not five feet away. Lessa’s hands were covering her face as tears flooded her eyes. All the color had fled Owen’s face, his skin turning a slightly green color that made his freckles stand out even more.

“Dammit, I told you two to stay put.”

“That’s, that’s,” Lessa gasped, unable to get any more words out as her sobs joined that of the woman who had first found Mharen’s body. Éowyn took a moment to pull the body up onto the rocky sand before wading out of the water, her feet squelching in her soaked shoes. She grabbed both of the kids by the shoulders and dragged them away from the scene, blocking their view with her body.

“Lessa, sit down before you pass out.” When the girl didn’t move, Éowyn put a hand on her shoulder and directed her to sit; though it didn’t take much effort as it seemed as if Lessa’s legs were made of noodles with how fast she sank onto the curb. “Owen, I need you to go find one of the guard.”

“But-.”

“Don’t but me Owen, just do it. I’ll stay here with Lessa.” She turned a flinty-eyed stare at him and watched as he audibly gulped before taking off, tiny puffs of dirt trailing behind him. Sitting down next to Lessa, she wrapped an arm around the girl, noting how thin and bony her body was. Lessa turned into her, wrapping those bony arms around her with a strength Éowyn hadn’t thought the girl could possess. She held the girl as she cried, snot and tears staining her jacket. Out of some distant memory Éowyn began humming a lullaby from her childhood, hoping that it would help give the girl some solace as it had her when she was Lessa’s age.

It was a dim hope but it was all that she had at the moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yeah. I know. Please don't throw rotten tomatoes at me for that. If it helps at all I got a little blubbery when writing it.  
> And don't worry, those kids will be taken care of. I promise.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com. There be nerdy shit there. :)


	7. Chapter 7

It took the guard less than twenty minutes to show up, which was impressive considering how infrequently this area was patrolled. Éowyn wasn’t sure how far Owen had to run before he found a guard, especially one that listened, but there must have been enough fear in the boy’s face for the guard to take him seriously. Lessa and the woman, whose name she learned was Sara, had calmed down by the time the first of the guard showed up. It had taken a little effort to disengage Lessa’s arms from around her and hand her off to Sara so that she could talk to the guard but she managed it with the promise that she wouldn’t be that long. Owen stood nearby, shifting back and forth on his face as he darted glances toward the pier where several of the guard were retrieving Mharen’s body. His face was still slightly green but he refused to leave when Éowyn suggested, stating that he wanted to be there to watch out for Lessa.

She was almost done giving her statement when she noticed a familiar face approaching her as she was talking with the guardswoman and she had to suppress a groan. At least it was Donnic and not Aveline; she wasn’t quite up to being read the riot act right now, especially not so soon after her fight with Sebastian. It was inevitable once Donnic reported back but at least this would give her a little breathing room. Aveline was not going to be happy when she discovered that she was looking into the Drowned Mermaids and there was no doubt that Mharen Barnes was the killer’s latest victim.

“I’ll take over from here, guardswoman,” he said, dismissing her. His eyes looking over the scene before sighing heavily.

“Aveline still has you working Darktown, Lieutenant?”

“That was the agreement we made when she became Guard Captain. She doesn’t give me the easy assignments and I don’t get cranky with my commanding officer.” Donnic turned to Éowyn, his lips turned downward. “How involved are you in this?”

“Would you believe me if I said that I just discovered the body and reported it?”

“I think if I tried to spin that tale for Aveline she’d throw us both in a cell and I happen to like sleeping in a bed without stains of questionable origins. Why are you looking into the Drowned Mermaid case?”

“I wasn’t. Or not initially,” she said when he just frowned harder. “A client came to me with concerns, asked me to look into some missing women.”

If anything Donnic’s face only went harder at her words. “This client of yours wouldn’t perhaps be a former templar, would he?”

Éowyn raised her chin, refusing to back down. “And if he is? He had valid concerns and his information was solid.”

“Not solid enough to keep his position and subsequently put a black mark on Aveline’s record with that botched raid on DuPuis’ estate. What makes his information more credible now?”

“Well, the dead body over there would indicate that he was on to something.”

Donnic had the grace to grimace. “I won’t deny that the guard wasn’t as diligent in handling this case as it should have been but you can understand the hesitancy.”

“Yes, can’t let it appear that the guard is unnecessarily harassing murder suspects.”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

Now it was Éowyn’s turn to sigh. She did know. The rich and powerful in Kirkwall had a way of skirting the law and DuPuis wouldn’t have been the first to worm his way out of trouble. Sure the guard hadn’t found anything but that didn’t mean the guy wasn’t guilty. She caught Lessa out of the corner of her eye, tears still fresh on her cheeks, carving paths through the dirt on them. Éowyn resolved right then that she was going to get to the bottom of this. No matter what. Donnic caught the gleam in her eye and audibly groaned.

“You’re going to pursue this no matter what aren’t you?”

“Why Donnic, it’s almost as if you know me,” she grinned. “I have some more leads to track down, how long do you think that I have until Aveline comes after me?”

“Depends on how fast you run. She’s not going to like you looking into this. Especially considering that you and your brother and Varric found the first body. If the rags find out that you’re involved, they’ll never leave you alone.”

Éowyn wrinkled her nose. “Especially if it’s that bitch Idunna. Don’t worry, I know how to work around her.”

Donnic gave a non-commital grunt. Everyone in Kirkwall in any position of authority and/or notoriety fell victim to Idunna Brinkley’s pen, including Éowyn herself. The woman had tried in vain to get an interview with her after the Harimann affair, ambushing her at both her mother’s home as well as Sebastian’s. She’d even tried to get to her one night when she was at The Blooming Rose with Sebastian, an act that had led her to being banned from the club for life.

There were benefits in being friends with the club owner. It didn’t hurt that Idunna was universally disliked, even despised. She’d made more enemies than the rats that ran in the sewers, an amazing feat in Éowyn’s mind. The woman had absolutely no redeeming qualities.

“What’s with the kid?”

Éowyn looked over at Lessa who apparently had finely tuned senses to know when she was being talked about as she whipped her head up, her body tensing. Dollars to donuts she was prepping to run. Probably didn’t want to risk getting caught up in the system and stuck in some shitty Chantry orphanage that she’d just run away from later. Éowyn couldn’t blame her and probably would have done the same.

“She knew the victim. Could have possibly seen her with the killer.”

Donnic frowned, his brows knitting together.

“She’s Owen’s cousin,” she continued, daring Donnic to contradict her. Owen, who had been lurking nearby trying not to seem like he was eavesdropping, came to attention at hearing his name.

“Yessir, she’s my cousin. She’s staying with me and my ma.”

Donnic gave them both a look that said he wasn’t buying any of the bullshit they were shoveling at him but held his tongue. Anyone who looked at her would see a street rat whose warms meals were few and far between. That being said, it appeared that he wasn’t going to contradict them.

“Well, as long as she has someone to look after her. If she knew the victim as you say then the killer might come after her if she really did see him.”

“Someone will be watching out for her until this bastard is caught. I won’t let anything happen to her,” she said even as she wondered how exactly she was going to manage that. Owen said his mother was open to taking the girl in but she wouldn’t know that until she talked to her. And if it turned out that wasn’t the case, what was she going to do? Her apartment and office weren’t exactly the best place for her to stay, especially if the killer thought that Lessa might know something. An icy ball of dread formed in her stomach at that thought. Kids like Lessa were some of the most vulnerable and easily missed due to carelessness and neglect. If she could stop that from happening to just one she’d do what it took and damn the consequences.

“I still need to talk to her though. Get an official statement. There’s no getting around that.”

Éowyn let out a long breath. “Come on. Maybe if I’m there she won’t bolt on you.”

Lessa was surprisingly more willing to talk with Donnic than Éowyn had thought she would be. Perhaps it was because she wanted to help however she could to catch Mharen’s killer or maybe it was because she was still shellshocked by the whole ordeal; Éowyn suspected that it was a combination of the two, especially when the girl didn’t disabuse Donnic of the notion that she was Owen’s cousin. There was the tiny detail of Owen’s mother not being aware of her new niece but Éowyn figured that she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Knowing how protective the woman was of the area children Éowyn didn’t think that it would be much of a problem.

As Donnic talked with Lessa and Sara, Éowyn angled herself in an attempt to block their view of the guards removing Mharen’s body. They had her body covered but that image was going to stick with them. She knew that she wouldn’t be forgetting her ravaged face for a long time. Just add it to the pile of faces that haunted her dreams.

When Donnic finished talking with them Sara gathered herself together and nearly ran away from the pier, eager to distance herself from the scene. Lessa still sat on the curb, twisting her fingers together. Owen hovered, biting his lower lip as he shifted on his feet. The ambulance had left a while ago and the looky loos were starting to trickle away into the shadows, thankful that it wasn’t them who the guard had fished out of the water.

Éowyn sat down next to Lessa and tried to gather her thoughts in such a way so that she could convince the girl that staying with Owen and his mom was best for her, but before she could even take a breath to speak Lessa beat her to the punch.

“What am I supposed to do now?” She looked so lost that it was all that Éowyn could do to not put her arms around the girl but she hesitated, not knowing if the action would be welcomed.  

“Well,” Éowyn said carefully, hoping that the girl’s pride would let her accept the offer. “Owen’s already said that it’d be okay for you to stay with him and his mother. You could go there. If you’re willing.”

Lessa looked down at her feet and gave the slightest of nods. Éowyn let out half the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She’d be able to let out the other half if Owen’s mother was amenable to taking in a new boarder, one who wouldn’t be able to pay. If it came down to that Éowyn would dig up the funds to compensate the woman. Somehow.

“Okay then, what say you we get out of here. I don’t know about the two of you, but I’ve had enough of the docks for one day.”

The two children nodded, and somewhat to Éowyn’s surprise, Lessa slid her hand into hers, gripping it tightly as they walked out of Darktown. Éowyn steeled herself for the meeting with Owen’s mom. She was big enough to admit that the woman slightly intimidated her. Molly Ripley was not a woman you crossed twice but fortunately thus far she had managed to stay on the woman’s good side. And she intended to stay there.

* * *

Sweat was beading down her spine as Éowyn stood in Molly Ripley’s living room. She preferred to believe it was from the unbearable heat that pressed down on the city and not from the hairy eye she was getting from the older woman. Owen and Lessa were sitting in the kitchen, taking advantage of the rare treat of cookies while she and Molly talked in hushed tones.

“Just what trouble have you brought to my doorstep, Hawke? Because it’s always trouble with you.” Molly wasn’t much older than she was, only a handful of years, but she had a way about her that could make the most recalcitrant person fall in line. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if she was related in some way to the nurse that took care of her after Samson had shot up her house.

“I know it’s a big favor to ask Molly but she has nowhere else to go except for the streets or in some Chantry-run orphanage and you know as well as I do that one’s only slightly better than the other in this town. She needs a safe place to stay until this is finished.”

“And just when is that supposed to be? This maniac has been,” Molly paused, darting a glance to the kitchen before lowering her voice. “He’s been killing women for three years and the guard sure as hell seem to be clueless and not at that motivated in solving these murders. I need to know that this isn’t going to put my son in danger.”

“His name has been kept out of the reports. I made sure of that.”

Molly narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t mean that some overeager puppy on the guard won’t blab to the first reporter that offers money. His name may not be in any reports but he’s gotten in enough trouble that his face is well known.”

Now it was Éowyn’s turn to scowl. She couldn’t be held responsible for Owen’s shenanigans. Kids found trouble if they tried hard enough.

“If you’re not going to take her in I’ll figure something else out.”

“Stop right there. I didn’t say I wouldn’t take the girl in, I just need to know what I’m getting us into.”

“Hopefully nothing. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. But I don’t want to take the chance that I’m not. Kid’s been through enough.”

“Do you really think that she’ll stay around? Most street kids don’t want to be stuck in one place for too long.”

“That’s because most don’t have a safe place to stay. Besides, I think this has scared her enough to stay put.”

Molly sighed, looking again at the two kids huddled around the small kitchen table. “This damned city. I swear it’s cursed. Kids should be allowed to be kids.”

Éowyn wisely said nothing even though she agreed. Kirkwall took something out of a person. It had a way of twisting a person about and wringing everything good out of them if you weren’t careful.

“Thank you Molly, for doing this. I’d take her myself but-.”

“You’re not exactly suited for taking care of a child, Hawke. That’s not meant as an insult, just a fact. It also defeats the purpose of hiding her if you’re waving her presence under the killer’s nose. Despite my reservations on all this, she’ll be safe here,” Molly said and then snorted. “Provided those two don’t get up to their typical kid shenanigans and you know how I feel about shenanigans.”

Éowyn chuckled. “That I do.” Her gaze lingered on Lessa. She hadn’t known her more than a few hours but she felt responsible for her. If Carver were here he’d say that her overdeveloped sense of responsibility was rearing its head, and maybe he’d be right, but it didn’t change the way she felt. A common refrain from him that it was going to get her killed one of these days. There were days where she wondered if he might be right.

Shaking it off she turned back to Molly. “I have to go but if you need anything just call the office. If I’m not there Flora can take a message.”

Molly raised an eyebrow. “Flora? Did you hire a secretary?”

“No. Well, yes. Sort of. She’s helping me out with paperwork that I’m behind on.”

“Sounds like a secretary to me,” Molly said, a slight smile on her face. “I also heard through the grapevine that you’ve found yourself a fella.”

Éowyn’s chest tightened at Molly’s words. Why was it that when people were in a relationship every Tom, Dick, and Harriette found it necessary to comment on it? Did no one value privacy? Normally she would have just been annoyed but after they fight they’d had she wasn’t sure she still had a fella as Molly put it. For lack of anything intelligent to say she merely shrugged and tried to keep her face straight. Judging by Molly’s reaction she wasn’t completely successful but fortunately the other woman didn’t push her on it.

“Well, I should go. I have to go talk-.”

“You’re leaving?”

Lessa was suddenly standing on the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Éowyn swore silently. She should have realized that even with the distraction of cookies that the kid would have had both ears tuned into what she and Molly were discussing.

She knelt down before Lessa and placed both hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Look kid, you’ll be fine here. Safe. Molly will take care of you. She’s a lot tougher than she looks.”

Lessa looked Molly up and down, a dubious look on her face but she must have seen something in Molly’s demeanor that satisfied her as she finally nodded her head. “Okay, but how long am I going to be here?”

“I’m going to find the bastard who killed Mharen, I promise,” she said, ignoring Molly’s strangled groan. “With the Maker’s blessing I’ll find him quickly but in the meantime I want you to be safe.”

“And what about after?”

Éowyn opened her mouth but no words came out. What _did_ come after? Molly, as generous as she was, couldn’t house Lessa forever. She closed her mouth, giving the girl what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure that out when the time comes. Let’s focus on the now. I know you’re used to being on your own but please mind Molly. I’ll check in when I can.”

“You gonna go beat up some bad guys?”

“Owen!”

Éowyn chuckled at Owen’s excitement and Molly’s exasperation at her son’s excitement at the prospect of someone getting beat up. Unknowingly Owen had provided her with the first bit of levity all day. Something she didn’t realize she needed until it came.

“Only if they ask for it,” she said, her lips turning up at the groan Molly let out. Standing up, she gave them what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Right now I’m just going to talk to a guy. Believe it or not I do much more talking than I do hitting.”

“That’s not what Uncle Varric says.”

“Uncle Varric tends to exaggerate. A lot,” Éowyn said, wondering just when Varric had earned the honorific of Uncle from Owen. It was amusing how her friend tried to come off gruff but he would go to the ends of the earth to protect one of his kids. Or his friends. He was loyal like that.

“Let me know if anything happens. Or if you need anything. I’ll check in soon.”

“Promise?” Lessa’s eyes were wide, holding a tentative hope that everything was going to be okay.

“I promise.”

Éowyn left the apartment with a greasy ball of unease in her stomach, praying that she was doing the right thing and not putting more people in danger. If the killer thought that someone could recognize him there was no telling what he would do to keep his identity secret. Unlike other serial killers this one didn’t crave the spotlight. He focused on his craft, not on how the world perceived it and him. Once he was done with his victims he tossed them in the bay and moved on to continue the hunt. It was almost as if once he got whatever he wanted out of his victims they ceased to be important anymore.

Setting those thoughts aside for later she focused on her more immediate task of talking to Jethann and hoped that he wasn’t going to be too melodramatic about it. The more pressing concern was whether or not she could slink in and back out without Lusine catching wind of it. It would all be a matter of timing.

Cutting across town took longer than she liked. If memory served, Jethann was usually on stage about eight o’clock, warming up the crowd for Isabela, and it was now half past seven. She wasn’t going to make it in time, which meant that she’d have to wait around for at least an hour, probably more depending if he got any encores.

Cars and people were swarming around the Blooming Rose by the time she reached the club and she was barely able to suppress her irritation with the growing crowd. She saw Osric darting in and around people with a practiced speed, working hard to clear the queue so the impatient throng could get started on their Friday night boozing and carousing. Judging by how some of them wobbled into the club she guessed that more than a few had imbibed in more than a few cocktails before arriving.

Seeing all the people in their shiny garb and lacquered up-dos made her realize that she wasn’t exactly dressed for the club. She wanted to be in and out with the least amount of fuss and not bring attention to herself. The faint aroma of brackish water and sweat hung on her and her shoes had tightened on her feet since this afternoon, rubbing against her feet in a way that she was sure was going to leave blisters. Normally she wouldn’t have given two shits about her appearance but this was Isabela’s place and she tried not to actively piss off her friend’s business partner.

She was saved from having to decide if she could sneak in through the back when Osric noticed her from across the street and gave her a little wave. Éowyn waited as he trotted over to her, noting that despite the heat he didn’t seem to be sweating at all and for a half second she hated him for it.

“Miss Hawke! Do you want me to park your--. Oh, your car’s not here. It didn’t get shot up again, did it?”

“No,” she laughed. “Life’s been rather dull lately in that department I’m afraid.”

“So what’s going on? You gonna come in the club? Miss Isabela’s doing double sets tonight.”

That caught Éowyn’s attention. “Double sets?”

“Oh yeah. She ain’t too happy about it neither. Jethann up and went to Orlais this weekend with no warning.”

It took everything she had not to swear like a Rivani sailor who’d just learned that his shoreleave was cancelled.

“Jethann is in Orlais,” she said tightly.

“Yeah. I’ll tell you, if some Orlesian theatre poaches him Miss Isabela won’t be happy. Said something about knives going in uncomfortable places and all.” Osric coughed at her sharp look. “She, ah, wasn’t exactly quiet when she found out. He swore it was just a short getaway but, well, you know how she can be.”

“Indeed. Did he say when he’d be back?”

“Ah, Monday I think. Just a quick weekend getaway like I said. Wouldn’t say with who. Was really coy about the whole thing.”

The urge to punch something was rising. Right now Jethann and Ninette could be bouncing on each other in some Orlesian hotel while she was sweating in the streets trying to prove that she wasn’t one of the next Drowned Mermaids. Even as the thought went through her head she dismissed it. Jethann was a flirt for sure but she’d never known him to step out with a married woman. No, she had a sinking feeling that Ninette de Carrac would never take another vacation to Orlais or anywhere else for that matter.

“You okay, Miss Hawke?”

Éowyn shook off her mad, or at least a portion of it. Osric wasn’t to blame for bad timing. “I’m fine Osric. When you see Jethann next tell him I need to talk with him. It’s important.”

“Someone in trouble?”

“Hopefully not. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

A few moments silence passed between them before Osric spoke again. “You sure you don’t want to come in? I’m sure that Mr Fenris can get you a spot at the bar.”

Éowyn smiled. “I’m sure he could but I need to head home,” she said, her smile fading. “I have some work to do.”

* * *

It was nearing midnight and she couldn’t sleep despite her exhaustion. She sat on the floor of her office wearing only a thin sleep shirt, staring at her board, a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting at her side. She’d downed two glasses so far, the third waiting at her side.

There was more information on her board now but very little of it was helpful. She’d added notes about Mharen Barnes’ death but it didn’t make the picture any clearer. If anything it only muddied the waters. According to Emeric the woman had gone missing about ten days ago or so, with Ninette disappearing about three days ago. Why the shortened time period? Had the killer not gotten what he wanted from Mharen so he went looking for a new victim right away? Or was there something else going on? There had to be a reason for why he sped up his timeline. The closest gap previously had been ten months, not ten days. That was a hell of an increase.

Something was spurring him to kill quicker, causing him to escalate. It wasn’t unusual really. Most serials escalated but with the latest two women the time gap was so dramatically shortened from the previous victims that she couldn’t help but think that something had gone wrong.

The only problem with that theory was that de Carrac claimed his wife had been courted by the mystery man for at least two weeks, well before Mharen Barnes had disappeared. He was speeding up his timetable and that meant nothing good for the women of Kirkwall. It was a high probability that he was already stalking his next victim.

Question was if she’d be able to find him before he took her.

She took a drink of her whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down her throat. Thunder cracked outside, a flash of lightning briefly flooded the room with white light. Éowyn jumped at the sound as it rattled her windows. She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts on the case that she hadn’t noticed the storm rolling in. Getting to her feet she padded over to the window, drinking as she watched the storm approach the city from the ocean. Lightning streaked across the sky, cutting through the dark clouds and fracturing the world with its light. It reminded her of another stormy night not all that long ago when a stranger had come to her door asking for her help.

He’d caught her attention in more than one way that night. She remembered thinking that even with the giant stick up his ass he was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever met. His voice had a way of making her toes curl and he had a way of looking at you that made it feel like he was uncovering pieces of you that you didn’t know existed. She sure as hell hadn’t known she was capable of the depth of emotion she felt for him.

It was more than that, of course. He was exceedingly kind, and despite Varric’s opinions about Sebastian’s ‘obnoxious niceness’ it was one of the things that she loved most about him. Sure he could be impulsive at times and a little blind when it came to the Chantry but overall he was a good man, one that strove to be better than he was. She couldn’t say that of most people. And she could honestly say that she had never loved anyone the way she loved him.

Which was why their fight tore at her so badly. What if they weren’t able to find a way around this?

Tired and drained by the day’s events, she made her way over to the couch and laid down, one arm covering her eyes as she tried to calm her brain. She knew she had a perfectly fine bed not twenty feet away but the thought of crawling into it alone was more than she could handle at the moment. Thunder continued to rumble overhead but it was distant now, all that was left was the slap of rain on her windows. Sleep snuck up on her, made easier by the soothing sound of the rain and the whiskey numbing her brain and body.

The shrill ring of her phone woke her sometime later. Éowyn started, jerking her head up from where it had been mashed into the sofa cushion. Her mouth felt like she’d eaten ashes as she tried to get her bearings. It was still raining but just barely so she couldn’t have been asleep for very long. The phone rang again, insistent in its demand to be answered.

Éowyn reluctantly pushed herself up to a sitting position, regretting her decision to sleep on the couch as her sore muscles made themselves known. She started making her way over to her desk but tripped over the glass she’d left on the floor. Whiskey spilled across the floor and she watched as the glass skittered across the floor and smashed against her file cabinet. Her foot slipped on the floor and she rammed her knee into the desk, knocking the whiskey bottle over and spilling more of the alcohol on the floor in the process.

“Dammit!” she swore. Whoever was calling had better have a good reason for calling in the middle of the night otherwise she just might reach through the line and strangle them.

“What do you want?” she growled when she picked up the receiver.

“Miss Hawke? It’s Emeric. Emeric Jones.”

Éowyn closed her eyes and counted silently to ten. She was tired, slightly buzzed, and in no mood to deal with any bullshit. “It’s the middle of the night. What do you want?”

“I know it’s late but I might have a lead on Ninette. Can you meet me? I’m in Darktown.”

“I thought you were going to leave the investigating to me. Wasn’t that the whole point of hiring me?”

“I… yes. But I was talking with one of my old contacts and they mentioned something about some warehouse near here with strange goings on.”

“There are several warehouses in Kirkwall with strange goings on. What makes this one so special?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I want to check it out. I was hoping you would join me.”

“You want to investigate a suspicious warehouse. In Darktown. In the middle of the night.”

Emeric cleared his throat, nerves coming through his voice. “I know it’s not ideal but I have a feeling about this. Will you come?”

Éowyn pinched the bridge of her nose. She really shouldn’t. She didn’t like going off of secondhand information and Jones already had a history of going off half-cocked but if there was the slightest chance that they could find some information about Ninette could she really afford to pass it up?

“Give me the address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I know it took longer than normal for me to update but here we are finally! I hope you enjoyed it. As always, comments and kudos are most welcome. And if you comment I'll definitely write back. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com. There be nerdy shit there. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that there is violence in this chapter. But it ends on a somewhat happy note.

Between the traffic and the rain it took her over twenty minutes to get to the address Emeric had given her. Rain was still coming down, the storm persisting and keeping smart people off the streets. As the street gutters filled with rain and garbage she was glad that she had changed into a pair of old dungarees and workshirt and her worn boots that had come with her from Ferelden. Emeric had said a warehouse and she’d learned from experience that it was best not to wear your Sunday best or even your Thursday whatever was presentable when going in to such places.

The area that Emeric had directed her to wasn't one she was fully familiar with. She’d passed through a time or two but hadn’t spent much time there as none of her cases had led her here. The streets were dirtier here, the area older than most of Kirkwall. Every third street lamp was either out or flickering and on its last legs. It was decidedly one of the worst areas of the city.

Éowyn pulled up to the warehouse, shutting off the engine and studied the building. Emeric was nowhere to be seen. Had she stopped at the wrong place? She didn’t think so. Emeric had been very specific in his directions and that he’d be waiting just outside the warehouse for her.

This was a bad idea.

She checked her revolver, keeping one eye on the street as she waited for Emeric. No one lurked on the corner or in the shadows as far as she could tell but that didn’t mean that no one was there but after nearly twenty minutes had passed without Emeric showing up she began to get antsy. This felt ten kinds of wrong. Just the kind of situation where having back up would be ideal.

“Sorry Sis, I’m off to join the Wardens. No, I’m not going to stay and help run the business we started. I’m going to run away and follow my dream that I didn’t know I had until five minutes ago. I’m a whiny knucklehead who pouts in the corner,” Éowyn grumbled as she exited the car, cursing her brother. She knew he was happier where he was, more secure and comfortable in his skin, but a part of her couldn’t stop being annoyed that he had left.

In the time it took her to run from her car to the door to the warehouse she was near soaked through. Without much hope she tried the doorknob and sighed when it proved to be locked. She darted a glance over her shoulder before pulling out her lockpicks. Water streamed down her face as she inserted the hook and carefully felt for the tumblers to drop. Judging by the scratches around the lock she wasn’t the first person to try to break into this warehouse.

She probably should have waited for Emeric, or better yet, just gone back home to her bed but the underlying frustration pounding at her the last few days made her reluctant to forgo any possible lead. If Ninette de Carrac was in here somewhere she wasn’t going to abandon her.

The last tumbler fell into place and she carefully removed her picks and placed them back in their case. Something large scuttled in the alley behind her and crashed into one of the large trash bins lining the alley. Éowyn spun around, hand on her weapon as she surveilled the alley. She squinted into the darkness, holding her breath as she waited for the next sound or movement. When over a minute passed and no knives stabbed at her from the darkness she relaxed her guard slightly and opened the door to the warehouse, closing it quietly behind her. 

The warehouse was dimly lit and had a musty smell to it that said to her the place wasn’t frequented very often. A thin layer of dust covered everything and she could see tiny paw prints zig-zagging through it, leaving tiny trails of the mice and other creatures that called this place home. She heard more skittering in the distance but recognized it as the noise of some rodent or another, not the shuffle of feet of someone lying in wait. Her wet footprints trailed behind her as she moved further into the building.

“Emeric? Are you here?” she called out. Even though she didn’t call out loudly her voice still echoed a bit in the large room. She got no response.

Rain pinged against the metal roof overhead, the only sound in an otherwise quiet building. Éowyn moved down the main aisle, watching the cross aisles for any sign of movement. The last thing she wanted was for someone to work around her and get the drop on her. She was tempted to pull out the flashlight she had tucked into her pocket but there was enough light in the vast room for her to navigate without bumping into things. And if there was someone skulking about in here, besides herself that is, she’d rather not give away her position more than she already was just by being here.

Against the far wall she saw an office of some type, probably where they held the records of what was stowed here, though by the look of it no one had brought in or taken anything out in a long while. What was it about this place that had put it on Emeric’s radar? There was nothing special about it from what she could tell so far and she sincerely doubted there was much anything of value inside the crates stacked around here. There would be a guard of some type too or maybe a dog if the owner really wanted to keep the items in here secure. It was like this place had been forgotten by the outside world. Which would make it a perfect spot for the killer to hide out of that was the case.

Maybe that was what had gotten Emeric’s attention. One more decrepit warehouse in Darktown wasn’t going to arose anyone’s suspicions. If it had been cleaner and more protected that would have brought attention to it. She was mildly surprised that none of Darktown’s denizens had broken in to seek shelter if nothing else. Maybe there was something she was missing.

Éowyn continued moving slowly toward the back where the office was. Maybe she’d find something in there, maybe not, but she’d come this far it’d be stupid not to follow through. She rolled her feet from heel to toe in an attempt to quiet her approach, working to make herself as silent as a shadow. Despite the seeming emptiness of the warehouse, the back of her neck prickled as if she could feel someone eyes on her, watching. Carver would say that she was overreacting but she learned the hard way a long time ago not to ignore her gut when it was trying to tell her something and right now it was saying that nothing good was going to come from this venture.

Emeric should be here. He may have been given the bum’s rush by the Knight-Commander but the man didn’t shirk his duty. And unless she had  _ seriously _ misjudged his character she didn’t think that he would intentionally lead her on a wild goose chase. A dark thought ran through her brain wondering if perhaps the reason he was so interested in the Drowned Mermaids case was because he was the one behind the murders. He wouldn’t be the first member of law enforcement to use their position for nefarious means. Typically that ran more toward bribes and corruption but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for one to cross over to kidnapping and murder. Bringing her into the equation would increase the excitement for him if he was the killer. It was a theory she couldn’t fully discount.

She carefully ascended the six steps that led up to the platform where the office was. File cabinets lines the walls and an old metal desk sat in the middle of the room, a lamp casting pale yellow light across its surface. Éowyn glanced over her shoulder, taking another survey of the warehouse before reaching for the doorknob, slightly surprised when it turned freely in her hand. She stepped into the room and coughed quietly as she inhaled the stale air. Dust motes floated in the air around her head and Éowyn wrinkled her nose about to prevent the sneeze that threatened to break the silence.

The desk in front of her was the cleanest thing she’d seen since entering the warehouse. Papers sat on the surface, arranged in neat stacks, eleven of them to be precise. Eleven stacks just waiting for someone to come along and look at them. Someone had been here recently. Her brows furrowed as she approached and realized that it wasn’t stacks of paper on the desk, it was photographs and the images captured there made bile rise in her throat.

Éowyn cleared her throat as she reached for the first stack. Several pictures slid through her fingers, all depicting the first Drowned Mermaid, the very one that she had found on the beach three years ago, except the still unnamed woman was alive in these. At least she seemed to. In first one she appeared to be asleep, unaware of the killer standing over her. In the next three she was definitely alive, tears streaming down her face and terror filling her eyes. She knew she was going to die, something that was proved in the final picture. The woman’s body was laid out on the grey canvas Éowyn had found her wrapped in, thick wire tight around her throat. The killer hadn’t yet done his more gruesome work and Éowyn took a modicum of solace in the knowledge that the woman hadn’t been alive when he had mutilated her. 

There were more stacks of photographs on the desk than there were known victims, proving her suspicion that there were more victims and not all had been found. Eleven women taken by a killer who had no regard for the sanctity of life. The eleventh stack was just two photographs showing Ninette de Carrac, proof positive that she was indeed taken by the killer. Missing from the pile were photographs of Ninette after the killer was done. Did that mean she was still alive?

Éowyn started to gather up the photographs into one pile, intent on giving them to Aveline when she spied a plain manila envelope laying on the edge of the desk. She’d been so distracted by the photographs that she hadn’t seen it at first. She slid it toward her and her breath caught in her throat when she saw her name scrawled across the front. The killer had left this for her but how did he know that she would be here?

Several photos slide out of the envelope as she picked it up. She stared, horrified, as several familiar faces stared back at her. There was her and Anders arguing on the street corner. One of herself alone holding her own camera, another with her standing with Sebastian and her mother. Another was shot through the window of The Hanged Man showing Merrill balancing several plates as she bused tables. Yet another of her mother and Sebastian as they were leaving the Chantry but this one was from a different day. She flipped through all of them, each one causing the vise in her chest to squeeze harder. There was over two dozen photos all of them of either her or someone she cared about.

The killer was making a point of telling her that he knew who she was, who her friends were, and what she was doing. It was a clear warning to back off.

Her hands trembled as she stuffed the photos back in the envelope. She’d been threatened before but no one had ever come after her friends or family, not like this. 

How had he known? She’d barely scratched the surface of the case and it was evident from the photos that he’d been watching her for days. Had the killer been watching Emeric, seen him come to her office? It made the most sense.

Éowyn made for the door, more than ready to leave the warehouse. It was obvious that Emeric wasn’t showing and she had no intention of sticking around to see if the person who had left these photographs for her was going to return. 

The shadows seemed to grow deeper and darker as she made her way back to the warehouse entrance. Thunder cracked overhead and the lights flickered slightly. It would just be her luck if the power went out. She was pretty sure she could make it to the door without the lights on but she would rather not have to.

As she neared the exit she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. She  _ knew _ that she had shut it behind her which meant that she wasn’t alone in here. Just as she reached for the handle the door burst inward, slamming into her face. She felt her nose crunched and her vision blurred as she stumbled back, head swimming, barely managing to keep her footing. Someone large loomed in the doorway for a moment before they sprang at her, a large fist grabbing the back of her neck and throwing her forward. Éowyn fell into a shelf, the edge ramming against her ribcage, knocking the breath out of her. She managed to push herself up but her attacker grabbed her from behind and yanked her head back by her hair. His hot breath felt like it was burning her skin as he grabbed her arm and twisted it up and behind her back, making it impossible for her to move.

“What a curious little kitty you are. You know what happens to those, don’t you?” He whispered the words into her ear, his voice flat and without any discernible accent that she could place. Before she could answer he twisted her arm again and pain flamed up her arm as something popped, causing her to cry out in pain. “It doesn’t end well for them.”

He threw her into the shelves again. Éowyn felt blood on her tongue as she went down, hitting the floor hard. She tried to push herself up but her vision swam and nausea burned in her throat even as she tried. Her arm was jerked out from underneath her as her attacked grabbed it and pulled her across the floor and through the open doorway. A fine mist of rain splattered on her face but did little to revive her. She tried to open her eyes to get a look at him but all she could see was a large blur. Between the rain and the dark night and the number of hits her head had taken it was no wonder that she couldn’t see him clearly. 

The rough pavement cut through her thin shirt as he dragged her through the alley. She could feel her skin burn as it broke open and blood seeped through the fresh wounds. Water from the street gutter flooded into her mouth before he jerked her up over the curb. Pain burst in her head as it struck and she vaguely wondered how many concussions one could get within the span of five minutes.

A pain-riddled groan cut through the haze surrounding her brain. She managed to crack her eyes open enough to see Emeric laying on the ground several feet away. His face was so bloodied and bruised that so almost didn’t recognize him. This explained why he hadn’t met her in the warehouse.

Heavy boots walked around them, coming to a stop at Emeric’s head. Blood drooled out the side of Emeric’s mouth, pooling on the wet pavement. The man nudged his boot against Emeric’s head and let out a sigh when he didn’t get more than a soft moan out of him.  

“Here’s another curious kitty. One who’s been a persistent pain in my side for a while now but mostly harmless. Until he came to you. Now I need to make an example.”

Éowyn watched as the man pulled out a wicked looking knife, similar to one her fellow soldiers had carried during the war in Ferelden. She watched, helpless, as the killer rammed it into Emeric’s stomach, twisting it violently across his abdomen before yanking it out. Blood arced off the knife, hitting her in the face. 

The killer turned around, knife in hand with Emeric’s blood dripping off the edge. Éowyn tried to move but he anticipated her and shoved his booted foot into her stomach. Vomit rose in her throat as she curled in around her stomach in a vain attempt to protect herself. The killer knelt down before her and tapped her cheek with the flat of the blade.

“Consider this me taking steps. I could kill you here and now but what I have in mind is much better.”

“You should,” she gasped, nearly crying in pain as she tried to inhale.  “You should just kill me now.”

“And make you a martyr? No, I don’t think so.”

He grabbed her hand then and wrapped her fingers around the haft of the knife. She thought she heard him chuckle as he briefly stepped away. There was a soft thwap as he dropped the envelope of photographs between her and Emeric. Éowyn tried to raise herself but her body wasn’t cooperating and her left arm felt like it was longer than it should be. She felt the press of fingers against her throat and for a panicked moment she thought that he had changed her mind and was going to kill her after all but he just held his fingers against her pulse, pressing just hard enough that she could feel the thready beat.

He bent over her, his face close to her ear. She caught a faint musty odor as he spoke. “Enjoy your newfound notoriety.”

Even if she’d been able to respond he didn’t give her the chance as his fist slammed into her face. There was a brief and yet painful explosion of pain before everything went dark and there was nothing but the rain.

* * *

Lights, red and blue, flashed over her. Distantly she could hear someone talking, heard the squawking of a radio car. Someone grabbed her by the shoulder. Fire and pain ripped through her as her body was jostled about. More shouting, more lights, more jostling. She managed to open her eyes at one point and vomited as the world spun. Blissful darkness again.

* * *

More light. Bright and painful. Louder, more shouting. Angry voices arguing back and forth. Cool air washed over her, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Someone pulled back one of her eyelids and flashed a blinding light into her eye but that pain was insignificant compared to when the whole world shifted around her as she was moved. Something loud popped and she screamed before passing out again.

* * *

It was quiet when she awoke for the third time. She carefully opened her eyes, preparing herself for the world to tilt again and gave a sigh of relief when it stayed in one direction. Everything still hurt, her entire body felt like an exposed nerve rubbed raw. She hadn’t hurt this bad since Ostagar. Her left arm was bandaged and in a sling and there was some sort of bandage covering the left side of her face. Blessedly, the overhead lights were off but the lamp at her bedside glowed softly.

Éowyn started to raise her arm to probe carefully at the bandage on her face but was brought up short. It was only then that she felt the cold metal handcuff around her wrist. She stared down at it, dumbfounded.

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t be so surprised, Miss Hawke. If I’d had my way you’d be rotting in the Gallows right now instead of handcuffed to a hospital bed.”

Éowyn blinked and looked up to see a sour-faced man wearing a templar uniform. He sneered down his thin nose at her before flicking on the overhead light. Éowyn flinched as light flooded the room. After the spots cleared from her vision she glared at the man.

“Who the fuck are you and why the fuck am I handcuffed to this bed?”

“Knight-Corporal Varnell and I handcuffed you there because you murdered Emeric Jones. He may have been booted from the order but he was still one of ours and you gutted him.”

She could only stare at him. They thought  _ she _ had killed Emeric? 

“You can’t possibly be that stupid. I didn’t kill him,” she said, her voice raw. She desperately wanted a drink of water but even if she were inclined to ask this walking asswipe of a human she doubted he’d give her one.

Varnell scoffed. “You were found with the murder weapon in your hand. A knife particular to those who served in the Ferelden army.”

“Right, it must be mine because no one who didn’t serve in the army couldn’t possibly get their hands on one.”

He stepped forward, hatred filling his eyes. “I would watch that smart mouth of yours. It won’t do you any favors.”

“Well, at least one of us in this room has smarts. The templar order must be down in their recruitment quotas if they’re taking on idiots like you,” she said and then yelped in pain as he grabbed her wrist.

“Fereldan bitch. I told you to mind your-.”

“Varnell! I thought I explicitly told you to stand  _ outside _ her room.”

Varnell released her wrist like it had burned him. Éowyn looked up to see Knight-Commander Rutherford standing in the now open doorway, a dark scowl on his face. Beside him stood another templar that Éowyn didn’t recognize but the disgust on his face when he looked at Varnell was plain. Rutherford’s eyes flicked to her briefly before turning back on Varnell. “You were set here to guard her, not interrogate her and you’re going to explain to me why she’s handcuffed to her bed.”

“Ser! She’s a murderer. She killed-.”

“There is no evidence whatsoever indicating that she killed Emeric Jones.”

“But ser, the knife-.”

“Could not have been more plainly planted. Get out before I have you busted down to archive duty.”

Varnell hesitated, rage flushing his face as he glared back at Éowyn. Rutherford stepped forward, his glower deepening. In her somewhat reduced state he reminded her of a lion staring down its prey. “You do not want me to repeat myself, Varnell.”

Before Varnell could move there was a flash of light and the acrid smell that was leftover after a flashbulb from a camera. Even before the spots from her eyes cleared she heard a nasally voice call out. 

“Knight-Commander! Is it true that you’ve arrested Éowyn Hawke for the murder of one of your own?” Idunna Brinkley peered into the room, edging out her photographer. A catlike grin spread across her face as she stared directly at Éowyn, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. The odious woman obviously thought she was finally getting her revenge for being blackballed from The Blooming Rose.

“I have no comment on the matter. Keran, get these people out of here. Get security if you need to. Or better yet, Nurse Bennett. I’m sure she would be very interested to know who’s skulking about in her hospital.”

“Yes, ser,” Keran said as he herded the mutinous Varnell out of the room, gently pushing Idunna out of the way. The woman was lucky that it was him giving her the bum’s rush and not her. If it had been up to Éowyn she would have thrown the woman out through the window.

“I just have a few questions. The public has a right to know. Did Miss Hawke kill Emeric-. Hey, get your hands off me. I have a job to do. You can’t treat me like this. The people have a right to know what happened.” Her shouts could still be heard as Rutherford closed the door behind them.

Éowyn snorted and immediately regretted it as pain spiked through her nose. She started to reach for it before she remembered that she was still handcuffed to the bed. Rutherford approached, a grimace spread across his face as he fished handcuff keys out of his pocket. Éowyn sighed with relief as he uncuffed her. Despite what he said about her being framed she had still woken up in handcuffs and under guard. Things were not looking good for her.

“Broken noses hurt like a bastard. I’ve had my fair share of them.”

Éowyn scowled at him. “So am I under arrest or not?”

Rutherford sighed as he pulled up a nearby chair and sat next to her bed. “No. It’s obvious that whoever attacked you intended for it to look like you had killed Emeric but it was a half-assed job if I do say so myself.”

“It was apparently enough for your subordinate to handcuff me to my hospital bed. Like I’m capable of doing much right now. Even breathing hurts.” Éowyn gestured to herself, her left arm wrapped up in a sling and the bandage covering part of her face. That didn’t even address how it felt like her internal organs had been taken out and put back together wrong. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if she had some internal bleeding but as it seemed that the doctors hadn’t seen fit to open her up she assumed that there was just some serious bruising. Even if the killer hadn’t been successful in framing her for Emeric’s murder he had done a nice job of making sure that she was going to be out of commission for a while. 

Rutherford sighed. “Varnell can be… overzealous comes to mind. He’s been reprimanded more than once.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” she mumbled. “Why are the templars involved here and not the guard? I half expected Aveline to be glowering over me when I woke up.”

“I’m sure she’s on her way,” he said and then gave her a considering look. “You seem to inspire loyal friends. That speaks well of you.”

“But? I hear a but there?”

“You also seem to have an uncanny ability to create enemies. Templar officers were called to the scene where you and Emeric were found. Nobody contacted the guard until after you were brought to hospital. Someone wanted to muddy the waters. They knew that the order wouldn’t take kindly to one of their own being murderer. Especially in such a gruesome way.”

“If I remember correctly, Emeric was dismissed from service by the Knight-Commander.”

“True, but one is always a templar. Even if you don’t work for the order anymore.”

Éowyn resisted the urge to snort. “Kind of sounds like a cult if you ask me.”

Rutherford visibly stiffened, his jaw tightening. “The order isn’t perfect, I’ll admit that. But it has also given structure and purpose to many.”

“If you say so,” she grumbled, ignoring the annoyed expression on Rutherford’s face. “I assume that I can thank the same person who called you guys for Idunna showing up outside my room.”

“That’s a safe assumption. Someone really doesn’t like you.”

“That’s one way of putting it. The asshole told me to enjoy my newfound notoriety. Getting that bitch Idunna involved will certainly do that.”

“Did he say anything else?”

Éowyn glared at him. “Besides threatening me he was mostly occupied with beating the shit out of me.” 

“He also left some pictures at the scene.”

Her glare turned into a grimace. Those images would forever be burned into her brain. “That was a special treat. I found them inside the warehouse. Pictures of all eleven victims just laid there for me to find.”

“Eleven? There were only nine in the envelope.”

“What?”

“There are only pictures of the nine victims. Are you telling me that there are more?”

“Did I fucking stutter? There were photographs of eleven women. Plus a bunch of me.”

“We didn’t find those either.”

Éowyn brooded over that. The killer was apparently covering some of his tracks. The photographs of her and her friends were an intimidation tactic and apparently meant just for her. By leaving behind only photographs of the known victims he was muddying the waters even more. She had the sinking feeling that her life was going to get ten times more complicated.

Before she could open her mouth to respond the door to her room and the formidable Nurse Bennett entered, her perpetual frown plastered on her face. She set a small tray on the counter before folding her arms across her chest.  

“Nurse Bennett, how nice to see you again. I don’t suppose you have any pain medication on that tray. Morphine maybe? My ribs feel like they’re on fire.”

“I’m sure they do considering the beating you took,” she said, and then turned her gaze on Rutherford, her eyebrow raised and an expectant look on her face. “Are you quite finished, Knight-Captain? My patient needs rest, not an interrogation. Surely you can do this at another time.”

The Knight-Captain cleared his throat as a slight flush rose on his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck as he stood up. “Ah, yes,” he said, clearing his throat again. It was fascinating to watch and Éowyn had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.  She sobered immediately when Nurse Bennett looked at her. At the moment she was on the nurse’s good side and she preferred to stay there.

Rutherford gathered up his jacket and hat and Éowyn noticed for the first time just how tired he looked. Working under the Knight-Commander couldn’t be easy, especially as her orders had become increasingly alarming over the past year. She didn’t even him in the least.

“I will have to follow-up with you later, Miss Hawke. And I’m certain the guard will want a word with you too.”

“Several I’m sure,” she said, cringing at the thought of Aveline giving her that disappointed look of hers.

“Well, no one’s going to talk to you until you get some rest. I do have some morphine here if you need it.”

“Oh, Maker yes,” she replied. Nurse Bennett whipped off the cloth covering the tray, revealing a small glass vial and an unnecessarily big needle and syringe. Rutherford took one look at it and blanched, quickly muttering his apologies and left the room. Nurse Bennett rolled her eyes as she drew up the medication. Éowyn eyed her carefully.

“You’re not going to stick that in my ass, are you?”

Nurse Bennett raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t intending to as you have a perfectly functioning IV in your arm but if you really want-.”

“No, no. The IV’s fine,” she said quickly. Nurse Bennett smirked as she pushed the drug into the IV. The amusement wore off as a thought occurred to her.

“Does anyone beside the templars and that bi-, uh, reporter, know I’m here?”

The look on the older woman’s face softened. “I was told that they were going to go to your mother’s but that was hours ago and I haven’t seen her.”

“ _ Hours? _ How long have I been here?”

Nurse Bennett glanced at her watch. “You were brought in a little after two. It’s mid-morning now.”

Éowyn just gaped at her. She hadn’t talked to anyone she knew since Osric yesterday evening. She lived alone and it was the weekend so there was no reason for Flora to come into the office. After the fight she’d had with Sebastian she wasn’t all that sure he’d be coming around either. The only other person who would know she was here was Aveline and she had to have faith in the Knight-Captain that she would be informed. Once Idunna got her story printed though, the whole city would know.

She groaned and dropped her head back on the pillow and willed the morphine to work quickly. A quick trip to oblivion would do her nicely about right now. She felt so very alone right now.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that woman. It wouldn’t surprise me if that camera had an accident on the way out. One of my orderlies takes patient privacy very seriously and would be quite perturbed to find out it had been violated.”

“Won’t stop her from printing the story.”

“Probably. But it’s as they say, a picture’s worth a thousand words and without it, well, people know bullshit when they see it.”

“Some do. Others suck it down like water,” she sighed, closing her eyes. She could feel the morphine start to hit her system as the pain started to dull and causing her thoughts to go a bit loopy. “He’s not going to be happy. He’s already upset with me.”

“I should think your young man would be happy enough that you’re still breathing and not being a thorn in the Maker’s side.” A pause. “He’ll be along soon enough I suspect. Will probably make as big a ruckus as you did when you were here last. Young people these days.”

The combination of annoyance and a tinge of fondness made Éowyn smile. For someone who gave off a definite aura of ‘don’t fuck with me’ Nurse Bennett apparently had a bit of a romantic side as well.  Who would have thought. 

Her eyes drooped as the morphine really began to take effect. Just as they began to close she saw Sebastian’s face. Or thought she did. Even if he was a drug-induced hallucination she was glad that he was there. It was a nice thought to have before falling into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo... _that_ happened. Welcome to Éowyn's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. But perhaps it ends on a high note? (no pun intended). I offer cookies in recompense.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. Let me know what you think. Comments and kudos are always welcome here!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com if you're so inclined. There be nerdy shit there. :)


	9. Chapter 9

A soft humming woke her. Though the morphine had done its job in numbing the pain it left her more than a little groggy, reminding her of why she didn’t like taking anything stronger than aspirin. Éowyn opened her eyes to take stock of her situation. The room was dim but there was enough light that she was able to see and now that her body wasn’t writhing in pain and she wasn’t being interrogated by templars she was better able to see where she was. Much to her surprise she saw that she was in a private room. She wasn’t sure how she rated one and was even more sure that she couldn’t afford it.

The humming continued though with her fuzzy head she couldn’t quite pin its location. The melody was familiar and it took her a moment to recognize it as the one she used to sing to Bethany when they were children. She had resurrected the lullabye again as Bethany was dying and to hear it now made her eyes well up. Over the years she had forgotten the actual lyrics so she would just make them up as she went. Bethany would correct her but there was always a smile on her face whenever Éowyn sang it to her.

“Not in the mood for ghosts today so piss off.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Éowyn shook off the lingering grogginess to see her mother sitting in a chair next to her, a slim volume in her hands. Éwoyn groaned, not even caring if her mother heard. She was in an even less mood for one of her lectures than a visit from a ghost. In fact, the ghost would be preferable.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Her mother didn’t need to know that her dead daughter would occasionally visit Éowyn while she slept; especially when Éowyn herself didn’t like thinking upon it. She wished that she knew of a way to purge the ghost and put her sister’s memory to rest. Of all the ghosts that haunted her, and there were many thanks to the war, Bethany’s was the most painful.

Nurse Bennett had left the head of her bed elevated, something she was grateful for as she slowly shifted to sit more upright. The shade was partially drawn to keep out the heat of the day but there was enough light and she was clear headed enough  by now that she contemplated trying to get out of bed. Leandra raised an eyebrow as if divining what she was thinking about. Realizing that she wasn’t going to be going anywhere soon she simply adjusted herself so that she sat up straighter. Her ribs protested and she hissed in pain as she lay back against the pillow. The bastard just had to kick her in the ribs. Bruised or broken, they were going to take the longest to heal. Her left arm was bound in a sling, keeping it firmly in place.

“What were you humming?” she asked as a means of distracting herself. For the life of her she couldn’t remember the name of the lullaby. You would think with how often she and Bethany had sang it she’d remember the damn name.

“It’s…” Leandra paused, her brows creasing together. “You know, I don’t recall. Your father used to sing it to you when you were children. I think it’s something his mother passed down to him and he to you.”

“Huh,” was all she said in response, an uncomfortable silence falling between them. Éowyn couldn’t relax, not with knowing that she was shortly going to be on the receiving end of her mother’s recriminations and disapproval. It was perhaps cowardly of her but she almost wished she would pass out again. Unconsciousness was preferable to this never ending argument with her mother. It wasn’t easy being the least favored child of Leandra Amell.

“What you did-.” Leandra said and then stopped as she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.

 _Here we go_ , Éowyn thought.

“I don’t need to tell you that it was incredibly reckless of you. You take too many risks. Especially for someone of your station.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t hold up to your idea of a proper lady. This is ridiculous, it’s my-.” Éowyn started but was stopped when Leandra continued.

“But I know what you do is important. You help a lot of people. I heard about that young girl you helped. I just wish,” Leandra paused again, taking another breath. “I just wish that you were more careful.”

“I’m as careful as I possibly can be. I can’t control the actions of others. I believe I’ve mentioned this before.”

Leandra sighed. “I know that, I do, but, I can’t help but worry. This city is just so dangerous nowadays.”

“Kirkwall has always been dangerous, Mother. Don’t let nostalgia and money insulate you from the truth. The whole world’s a dangerous place. Some are just luckier than others in avoiding it.”

“And others seem to run straight on into it and damn the consequences,” she responded sharply before she stood up and stalked over the the room’s small window, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mother. I can’t change who I am. Would your panties be in this much of a twist if Carver was lying here instead of me? If you’re just here to yell at me because of my life choices you know where the door is.”

“This has nothing to do with your brother.” Éowyn just rolled her eyes. Leandra Amell had definite ideas of how a woman was supposed to act and the fact that Éowyn fit none of them had to grate. She wished it wasn’t her problem but short of faking her own death and moving to Seheron there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about her mother’s beliefs.

“And it’s not just me, Éowyn. Sebastian’s been worried sick about you.”

“Don’t bring Sebastian into this.”

“I most definitely will. You didn’t see him when he found out you were here. He came to your office looking for you and found quite a mess. And then no one knew where you were. No one had seen you since yesterday afternoon. We didn’t know where you were until that young templar came to my door this morning.”

Éowyn grimaced. She could well imagine what he thought when he saw the state she’d left the office in: papers strewn all over, somewhat decent whiskey coating the floor, and probably a little blood but she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure about that last part. Needless to say it probably caused him some worry, especially since it seemed like she had disappeared.

Guilt swam through her even though she knew that it couldn’t be helped. How was she supposed to know that he would come to her office? How was she supposed to divine that the killer would ambush her in the warehouse? She wasn’t a fucking psychic after all.

“Where is he now?” she asked softly.

“Oh, that horribly rude woman, that nurse, said that only one person could be with you at a time. Something about how rules were rules no matter who you were. I wonder where she got that impression,” she said sourly, a hair’s breadth away from glaring at Éowyn, her lips pursed in disapproval. “He said that he had a few errands to attend to and wasn’t sure when he would be able to return.”

Éowyn picked at the light blanket covering her legs with her free arm, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth. She wanted to press her mother for more information but she was hesitant to feed that beast any more than she already had. It irked her that she was, well, not quite desperate to know what he was thinking, but it was definitely desperate adjacent. It made her feel like a fool and yet she couldn’t help but wonder if her current shenanigans would be the last straw for him. When you looked at the facts they didn’t really have all that much in common; different as night and day as the saying went.

So why did her heart ache so much at the mere thought of them never being together?

“I don’t suppose my clothes survived.”

“I am most certain you already know the answer to that.”

Éowyn sighed. “Just once I’d like to leave this hospital in the clothes I came in.”

She looked down, contemplating the IV in her hand. She wasn’t really sure why they felt the need to hook her up to one, she hadn’t been bleeding out or anything, but remembering the needle Nurse Bennett had been wielding she supposed she was lucky not to have it stuck in her ass. With how she’d been feeling even moving her arms was a chore much less rolling over so the nurse could jab the needle in. Now that the pain had eased to a dull yet persistent throb she wanted the thing out but with her left arm stuck in the sling removing it would prove tricky. Not impossible, but tricky.

From the hallway she heard the distinctive clomping of sturdy shoes, guard shoes, and braced herself, trying to judge just how pissed Aveline was.

“Prepare yourself Mother, we’re about to be invaded,” she said just as there were three sharp raps on the door. Aveline entered without waiting for admittance, a indicator that she wasn’t up to taking any bullshit. Her uniform was neatly pressed, the pleats in her pants so sharp that they could probably cut through skin. She removed her cap and tucked it under her arm, her back ramrod straight as she stood over Éowyn’s bed.

“You didn’t have to get all dressed up just for me.”

“Zip it. I had to meet with Dumar this morning to explain to him why a private eye was fishing murder victims out of the harbor and then I had to make a statement to the press telling them that there was no need to panic, that the guard has the matter under control.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a rough morning. So sorry about that,” Éowyn said dryly.

“Do you have any idea just how big of a mess this is? A former templar found dead, gutted, in a back alley. The templars are up in arms over this. Many want your head.”

“That was made abundantly clear to me last night when I woke up handcuffed to the bed,” Éowyn said sourly.

“Yes, Knight-Captain Rutherford filled me in. The young templar involved has been reprimanded.”

Éowyn snorted. “Reprimanded. Sure. Considering how the illustrious Knight-Commander Meredith feels about Fereldans I doubt it will be more than a slap on the wrist. If that.”

“The internal workings of the templars aren’t what’s important here, Hawke. The fact that they believe you’re responsible for Jones’ death is.”

“That’s not the impression I got from Rutherford last night. He seemed to believe me when I told him that I had nothing to do with Jones’ death. Jones was already dead when the killer dragged me into that alley.”

“With no witnesses we just have your word on that.”

Éowyn gaped at her. Did she really think that she was guilty?

“Do I look like I was in any shape to gut a man?” she demanded, gesturing to herself. “My ribs are on fire, my head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and my arm is partially numb. Talk to the doctor who treated me. I’ll give them permission to talk to you.”

“You were found with the murder weapon.”

“That’s because the asshole planted it on me. You should be familiar with planting evidence after having to clean up your house of all the bad seeds in your department,” she said, anger and hurt filling her chest. “The guard never took these murders seriously, not as a whole. You thought it was random and the fact that a majority of them were from marginalized communities made it easy to ignore. Perhaps if the guard had taken Emeric seriously we wouldn’t be where we are now. At least eleven women are dead. Eleven.”

“I am well aware of the situation,” Aveline said stiffly. “We should have done more.”

“You’re fucking right you should have.”

“Éowyn,” Leandra interjected.

“No, Mother, I will not watch my language. I woke up handcuffed to this bed last night and I’ve been accused of murder by two different law enforcement officials.” She glared at Aveline. “One of which I thought was my friend.”

“It’s nothing personal, you know that. I can’t show you preferential treatment for exactly the reason you just mentioned. I’m still cleaning up after Jeven. We have to step carefully.”

“And stepping carefully apparently means throwing me to the wolves.”

Aveline’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t say that. _I_ know that you didn’t kill Emeric Jones, anyone who knows you would know that but for Maker’s sake you have managed to piss off a lot of people in this city just by being you. People who wouldn’t hesitate to stir the pot and toss you to the wolves.”

“You’re mixing metaphors.”

“You know what I mean.”

Éowyn sighed. “Yes, I do. One of those pot stirrers was here last night with her recorder and photographer,” she paused, a wry smile lifting her lips. “Though I have it on good authority that any pictures she may have taken suffered an unfortunate accident.”

“She won’t let that stop her. You know that.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy for her.”

“I would be surprised if you did.”

“Who is this woman? And why is she causing trouble for you?”

“A parasite masquerading as a reporter. A shitty one at that. Rats wouldn’t feed on her corpse if they were starving.”

“Well, that’s, colorful,” Leandra said, her lips pursing in disapproval. Aveline let out a snicker before remembering that she was there in her capacity as a member of the city guard and had a job to do.

“I know it’s probably pointless to tell you that you need to be careful, even more pointless to assign a guard to you to make sure that the killer doesn’t come back to finish the job but I’m tempted to regardless.”

“You’re right, it is pointless but I do appreciate the sentiment. And believe me I’m not going to let the bastard get the drop on me twice.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“First, I’m going to get dressed and get out of this hospital and hope to never see the inside of it again. Second, I’m going to The Hanged Man to get the biggest cheeseburger that Corff can make and then I’m heading back to my office and get back to work. Don’t even bother giving me any guff about this being a guard matter. Emeric Jones may be dead but he’s still my client and I’m going to see this through to the end.”

A thought occurred to her. “Does anyone know where my car is? Or where my gun went?”

“Donnic called Anders who picked up your car. I’m sure it’s at his shop. As for your gun it wasn’t found on you or anywhere in the area.”

Éowyn swore. While she was happy to hear that her car wasn’t languishing in some Lowtown back alley, learning that her gun was missing was more than a little disconcerting. That neither the templars nor the guard had found it that meant the killer had taken it. She’d had that gun since Ostagar and it had made it through the war and all the years since. While it didn’t hold the same sentimentality as the ceramic mabari figurine Bethany had made her, she still had an attachment to it. It had saved her life many a time over.

Which meant that she’d have to find a replacement. She still had the shotgun but that wasn’t exactly discrete. And with her arm in a sling for who knows how long she was going to have to be creative and careful with self-defense.

She wouldn’t admit it in front of her mother or even Aveline but the attack had shaken her. It had been a long time since she’d been injured this badly, not since the war when shrapnel had torn through her and messed up her insides. Being helpless was not a comfortable feeling, not when she was so used to being able to take care of herself.

There was a brief knock on the door and in walked a middle-aged man who looked as if he hadn’t slept in about thirty hours.

“Miss Hawke, I’m Dr Carlisle. How about we see about getting you out of here.”

The corner of her mouth curved up. “Doctor, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Do you think I can get a burger to go?”

* * *

An hour later she was standing in her office, her brows creased together as she surveyed the scene. It was spotless. Her papers were in neat stacks on her desk and the spilled whiskey had been mopped up. She wandered into the apartment side and found her bed made and dishes drying in the rack next to the sink. Someone had been very busy while she was gone.

The person responsible was nowhere in sight. Nor did they leave a clue as to who they were. It was a shallow list of suspects but she had her suspicions. Discovering their identity would have to wait however. Despite her earlier proclamations of getting back to work all she wanted to do was sleep, not that she’d admit it to anyone. The heat wasn’t helping matters either. It felt like someone had relocated Kirkwall to the surface of the sun. Even the winds had fled, leaving nothing behind but an oppressive blanket from which there was no escape.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there until she felt her eyes briefly drift shut and her body sway. Giving in she stripped down to her undershirt and panties, careful not to jostle her arm too much. Dr Carlisle had told her that she only needed to wear the sling for a few days and to take it easy and not do anything stupid. He had stared down at her over the rim of his glasses and Éowyn gave him the most innocent look she could manage, one that he didn’t buy for a second but she tried anyway.

Now however as she stood in her room sleep seemed like the best idea ever. And since she had banished her mother before even leaving the hospital and Aveline shortly thereafter she didn’t have to listen to any ‘I told you so’s.”

She gingerly laid down on the mattress, enjoying the slight breeze her small fan offered. It wasn’t much but it was something and it also helped to soften the angry horn blares from short-tempered drivers. Sleep claimed her, dragging her down to its shadowy depths and for once she went willingly.

* * *

The scent of something heavenly woke her from her slumber. There was a brief moment where everything seemed fine and then she breathed and her ribs retaliated with a vengeance. At that moment she vowed that the next time she crossed paths with the killer he’d be repaid in full times two. She wasn’t going to be caught flat-footed like that again. The women he had murdered deserved justice and she was going to see that they got it.

First she had to get out of bed.

A sharp spasm spiked through her body as she started to sit up, her good arm almost buckling her under as she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. She let out a yelp before clenching her jaw and pushed past the pain.

“Perhaps you should stay in bed seeing as you can barely get out of it.”

Éowyn glanced over to see Sebastian leaning against the doorframe, a towel slung over his shoulder, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was carefully guarded but she could still see the concern and worry in his eyes. She felt horrible for being the reason why it was there but she sure as hell wasn’t going to apologize for doing her job.

“I’ll be fine. Just a little stiff from sleeping.”

“I would think so. You’ve been out for about five hours. I don’t think you moved since you fell asleep.”

Éowyn blinked and then noticed that twilight was setting upon Kirkwall. Golden light spilled through the window as the sun chased the horizon. She stared out the window dully, waiting for her brain to catch up with what she was seeing.

“I slept the day away.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement. If she thought about it she really shouldn’t be surprised. Pain took a lot out of a person and you could only push through so much of it. Especially if you didn’t have a clear motivation to do so.

“So it would seem. Are you up for eating? I’m guessing you haven’t had much of anything all day.”

Éowyn searched her memory. She remembered saying that she was going to get a burger from The Hanged Man but just the effort of getting to Aveline’s car had caused her to whimper a couple of times even though she was being wheeled out in a wheelchair. Every step pulled at muscles she’d forgotten she’d had. It was telling that she hadn’t protested much when Aveline had insisted on taking her home, forgoing the detour for a burger. Her stomach took that moment to announce the large vacancy it had.

“Stay there. I made you some food.” He turned and headed into the other room before she could even think of a response. For about a half second she thought about following him but quickly thought better of it and instead carefully moved up the bed and rested against the headboard. Her eyes were starting to slide close when she heard him walking into the room. Forcing herself into alertness she focused on the tray he carried over to her. Sadly it did not contain a burger but a bowl of something that smelled absolutely divine.

“What is it?” she asked as she picked up the spoon and poked at the contents. Amongst the steamy broth floated lacy noodles and chunks of what looked like chicken as well as other vegetables that she couldn’t name. She took a hesitant sip and let the flavors dance over her tongue.

“One of the sisters I worked with while I was in the Chantry was from Rivain. She gave me the recipe. She called it her comfort food.”

She took another mouthful, not even minding the steam that rose from the bowl. With the twilight the temperature in Kirkwall had fallen to more reasonable levels. “Well, it certainly does it’s job. My compliments to the Rivani sister.”

Silence fell between them as she ate. Sebastian walked over to the window, staring out over the city below, hands in his pockets. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she ate, trying to get a read on him. The fact that he was here spoke volumes, as did the fact that he had yet to comment on her activities of the last twenty-four hours. He’d yet to say anything on the matter but she was sure it was only a matter of time. Everyone else seemed to have an opinion of how she did her job, why would he be any different.

The soup was gone sooner than she had expected and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was tempted to lick the bowl. He turned back to her as she laid her spoon down, taking the tray from her and set it on the floor. Éowyn bit her lower lip when he finally looked at her, really looked at her. She waited as he took in her bruised and battered face, the bruises that no doubt wrapped around her shoulder. Though she hadn’t looked she was sure her torso was also covered in bruises.

“Are you in much pain?”

The question took her by surprise. No one besides Nurse Bennett and the doctor had asked her how she was feeling. From her friends and family it was all accusations and judgement regarding her job and how she went about it. He was the first to ask whose job didn’t involve asking.

“I’ve felt worse but I won’t be turning cartwheels any time soon and I wouldn’t say no to a couple of aspirin,” she said, the smile that started forming on her lips falling when he took her hands in his and pressed his lips carefully to her scraped knuckles. He let out a shaky breath as he raised his head, reaching out to brush her hair away from her face. Éowyn sat there, not quite holding her breath as he looked her over.

“Have I told you before how much you scare the shit out of me?”

“I, what?”

“You terrify me. You fling yourself into situations without thought for yourself, knowing that you’ll receive little in return, but you do it anyway because you believe it’s the right thing to do.”

“Sebastian-.”

“No, this isn’t me shaming you for doing your job. Your job is who you are and I wouldn’t ask you to change that. You wouldn’t be you if you did.”

Éowyn swallowed heavily as her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this reaction from him. If anything, she’d expected an even harsher response than the one she’d gotten from her mother and Aveline. Perhaps she should have known better.

“Anders left some of the salve he makes. He claims it’ll work better than any pill you get from the drugstore.” There was a element of doubt in his voice that made her smile.

“It’s stinks like you wouldn’t believe but it does actually work. Though I won’t discount the merits of modern medicine. The morphine they gave me worked wonders.”

“Éowyn…” he trailed off, contemplating his next words. “Would you like me to put some of the salve on your wounds? Would that be okay?”

Now this felt like the response she expected. Not to her current state but in regards to their fight. The awkwardness of meeting for the first time after their fight made her want to squirm. A part of her heart cracked when she heard the hesitation in his voice, the uncertainty. The crack grew slightly as she recognized the same hesitation and uncertainty within her.

As she didn’t trust her voice she simply nodded. She watched as he picked up the tray and took it to the other room. He returned with a small tin of Anders’ salve, sitting carefully next to her before unscrewing the lid.

“Maker’s breath, you weren’t kidding about the smell.”

“I think he does it on purpose if I’m going to be honest. Something about how medicine isn’t supposed to feel, smell, or taste good. I think that’s bullshit but he won’t share the recipe.”

“Considering how horrible you are in the kitchen I’m thinking that’s a good thing, _mo chridhe._ ”

Her heart flipped when she her him call her that, some of the internal tension she’d been holding in lessening. Even though she’d been miserable since they’d parted ways, she didn’t realize just how worried she was that they were over until she heard the words. Surely he wouldn’t call her that if he didn’t mean it. It wouldn’t be in his nature if he did.

“Is it okay to put this stuff on your face?” he asked. “Anders said so but…”

“Yes, it’s fine. I’ve used this stuff before and haven’t had any issues.”

His fingers were feather light as he first began to apply the salve. Éowyn closed her eyes as he worked, dabbing the salve along her cheekbone before gently massaging it into her skin. She opened them as he slide the strap of her undershirt to the side and applied the salve to her shoulder. He was so intent on his task that he didn’t seem to notice her watching him. The fading light of the day caught the auburn highlights to his hair and she caught herself reaching up so that she could run her fingers through it. Even though there was nothing inherently sexual about the gesture, she snatched her hand back before he could notice.

“Do you want me to put this on your ribs too?”

“Um, yeah,” she mumbled as she reached across her body and pulled up her shirt. Sebastian inhaled sharply when he saw the green and purple bruises marking her torso. She glanced down and could see the clear imprint of the killer’s boot in the midst of the other bruises.

“I hope you got a few good punches in,” he said as he lightly dabbed on the salve.

“A few. He’ll get more than a few more if I ever find him again,” she told him. Éowyn hissed as he touched a particularly tender spot; Sebastian murmured an apology as he continued to work. A few minutes passed before he finished. Was she imagining it, or did his fingers linger longer than was necessary. Oh, she hoped that was so.

“Thank you,” she said, letting her undershirt fall back down. Her hands fell limply into her lap. Between the food and the gentle massage she’d just received she felt like she could go to sleep again. Maker, she hated being hurt.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Éowyn looked up at him, searching his face for answers. On some sign of how she was supposed to proceed.

“No, you’ve done enough. I mean, shit, I don’t mean that how it sounded. You did more than anyone else has. Thank you.”

“It’s no hardship taking care of you, _mo grá_ ,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Even if you do get hurt more than I’d like.”

She opened her mouth to respond, close it, and then opened again. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Where else would I be?”

“I thought, well, we fought, and I assumed that you were done.”

“If I walked away because of a little fight I wouldn’t deserve you. It was a fight, _mo grá_. Probably not our last one. Couples fight but as long as we come to find some middle ground, we’re stronger for it.”

“You’re sure?”

He leaned forward, kissing her softly before resting his head gently on her forehead. “I’m sure. I love you Éowyn, no argument is going to change that.”

“Is love enough though? We have such different opinions on, well, everything.”

He pulled back, carefully palming her cheek in his hand, avoiding the bruises. “You listen to me Éowyn Hawke. Yes, we have differing opinions and thoughts on many things, but at the heart of it we want the same thing. We want to make the world a better place. You just tend to use your fists while I use a pen.”

Éowyn started to laugh and winced as her ribs protested. “Don’t make me laugh, you ass.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his face sobered. “I am sorry. I know my life has been a sheltered one. Even before I was sent to the Chantry it was sheltered, protected by my family’s name and money. I can’t possibly know what it was like for you growing up as you did. The Chantry is not perfect, not by any means, and the farther away I get from it, the clearer that is for me.

“After you left, I went to the Chantry and sat in the pews. At first I thought I went there to pray but then I thought about what you said and I saw it in a different light. I see the hypocrisy and intentional blindness. I thought back to the time I spent there and saw that you were right. As much as it pains me to say, the Chantry here doesn’t serve the people. The Grand Cleric, I think she means well, but she’s isolated up there, cut off from the very people she claims to serve.”

“Sebastian, you don’t have to-.”

“No, let me finish, please,” he pleaded, placing his hands over hers as he took a breath before continuing. “I then went to Lowtown and looked, really looked at what the Chantry was doing. I saw some sisters walking the streets, I even started to go talk to one but then I just stopped and listened. I listened as a woman who has no calluses on her hands lectured a washerwoman for working on a Sunday and scolded children for playing in the street rather than praying like good Andrastians. I saw the disconnect and I was ashamed. I would like to think that I would never preach to others like that but until my family was murdered I barely stepped outside the Chantry walls. How am I any better than them?”

Éowyn reached up and smoothed his brow, her thumb brushing away at the wetness under his eyes. “The fact that you’re asking those questions means a lot. Most don’t question their beliefs. They get comfortable and don’t see why they should step outside the box they’ve settled themselves into.”

“Whereas you question everything.”

“Well, I’m contrary like that. I’m not one who likes being told what to do.”

Sebastian chuckled. “No, that you are most definitely not.” His smile fell and he grew serious again, his gaze more intense than she’d seen it in a while. “I love you, more than is probably wise and I don’t know what my life would be like without you. What can I do to help?”

“Help?”

“Help in catching this bastard. He’s stalked the streets of Kirkwall for too long.”

“What about your family's business? You’re not just to let Goran keep it, are you?”

“I’ve done as much as I can at this point. It’s in the board’s hands. The fact that Johanne conspired to get Goran the seat in the first place is a point in my favor. So is the fact that he’s a complete moron.”

“Having never met him, I’ll have to take your word on that. But seriously, are you sure?”

“Éowyn, _mo chridhe_ , I’m sure. Whatever I can do to help you I will.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “This wouldn’t be you trying to keep tabs on me, is it?”

“Call it a side benefit.”

She scowled. “I won’t be coddled.”

“Darling, I wouldn’t even know where to start with even attempting to coddle you. But I can have your back. Whatever you need. Research, filing, someone to bounce ideas off of, you name it.”

“Flora already does the filing.”

“Oh good, I hate filing. Too many papercuts.”

“Sebastian.”

“I’m serious. Papercuts are vicious. Have you ever gotten lemon juice in one?”

She laughed, she couldn’t help it. The pain was worth it for the smile he had on his face. “Fine. You can help. I’m sure I can find something for you to do.”

“Good, because I wasn’t fond of the alternative.”

“Which was?”

“Stare out a window pining for you while staring at the moon.”

“There are two moons, you idiot.”

“Details. I’d still pine. From a polite distance.”

“And here I thought I was going to get more lectures about me taking my safety seriously.”

“You don’t need someone, anyone telling you how to run your life. All I ask is that you let me help. Your wish is my command.”

Both eyebrows went up at that. “Be careful what you say there, Sparky. It could get you in trouble.”

“As long as it’s with you I don’t care.”

“Sap.”

“Only for you.” He paused. “Wait here, I have something for you.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him just where he thought she was going to go, beat up and bruised and in her underwear, but decided to keep her own consul. When he came back he was holding a small box in his hands and a flutter of panic went through her. He wouldn’t, would he?

“This was my grandmother’s and I think that she would want for you to have it. They recovered it along with a lot of my family’s possessions after searching the Harimann estate. Pulled it right out of Johanne’s jewelry box if you can believe it.” He handed her the box and she took it with trembling fingers. The box sprung open with only the slightest touch and inside nestled against a dark blue satin was a locket. It was dull gold and obviously an antique. Etched onto the cover was a sickle moon with what looked like diamonds set into it. A single diamond sat in the center like a star.

“It’s been the the Vael family for decades. Rumor has it that it was a betrothal gift to the last princess of Starkhaven.” She must have paled at his words for he chuckled. “No need to look so panicked, I’m not proposing but I would like for you to have this. If you’ll take it.”

“Sebastian, it’s lovely, but are you sure? If it’s a family heirloom it should stay in your family.”

“Seeing as I’m the last of the Vael line, it’s up to me what to do with it, and it pleases me to give it to you. If you want it.”

Éowyn picked it up and traced over the cover before pressing the lock release at the top. The locket sprung open but it was empty but for the initials L.V. and M.V. etched into the back. She looked up at Sebastian expectantly and he just shrugged as he sat next to her again. “My grandfather’s addition. He had their initials etched in.”

“Most people just put a picture in it.”

“True and he probably did but I think he thought this was a more permanent remembrance.”

“What was his name? I don’t think you ever told me.”

“Lachlan,” he said softly. “I can only hope to be half the man he was.”

Éowyn reached out and grabbed his hand, ignoring the loud protests from her ribs. “You _are_ a good man, Sebastian. Never doubt that. I wouldn’t be with you if you weren’t. As you well know, I don’t suffer assholes lightly.”

He snorted. “That you don’t. So, does that mean you’ll keep the locket?”

She looked down at it again, shutting it closed, before looking at him, a smile on her face. “You can try to take it from my cold, dead hands. How’s that for an answer?”

“Terrifying, but I’ll accept it.” He leaned forward and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers. Éowyn leaned into him wishing she was in better shape for the activities her hormones were suggesting but she would have to be satisfied with just a kiss.

When they parted, Sebastian reached down and took the locket from her hand and hung it around her neck, deftly closing the clasp while looking into her eyes. The chain was long enough that the locket nestled just at the top slope of her breasts. He ran a finger down the chain and traced the outline of the locket, his touch whispering against her skin. A shiver ran through her unbidden.

“It suits you.”

“And I probably shouldn’t wear it to bed if it’s as old as you claim.”

“Darling, this locket has survived wars, family feuds, and Maker knows what else, I’m pretty sure it will survive your bed.”

“Don’t tempt fate. It’s a fickle thing,” she half teased. She looked up at him, taking in his face and feeling peace settle in. “Will you stay?”

He smiled.

“As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I wouldn't let them suffer for too long. :)
> 
> If you're curious about the lullaby it's the [Pan's Labyrinth Lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19bBGxf5k6k) . It's so haunting but seemed perfect. 
> 
> Also, this is what [the locket](https://www.etsy.com/listing/583858047/victorian-crescent-moon-and-star-locket?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=crescent%20moon%20locket&ref=sr_gallery-1-22) like. It's similar to one that my own grandmother had.
> 
> And much thanks to Penthesilea1623 for letting me bouncing ideas off her for this chapter. Couldn't have done it without her.


	10. Chapter 10

Much to Éowyn’s dismay and frustration it wasn’t until Wednesday evening that she felt like she was able to move around without feeling like she was some ancient ruin about ready to crumble. Betrayed by her own body she had spent more time in her bed than she wanted. Sebastian, knowing her well enough when to back off before she snapped, helped where he could, but in the end, time and rest were the only things that were going to let her heal. The external bruises healed quickly, aided by the liberal and frequent applications of Anders’ salve and the fact that her bruises tended to heal quickly; it was the internal bruising that took longer. She had used so much of the salve that she’d had to dip into her reserve and was near to running out of the second jar. If she kept up at this pace she’d have to ask Anders for another jar. She hadn’t seen him since the day they had argued and with the way he’d been acting lately she wasn’t looking forward to their next meeting. 

Flora had been surprisingly calm when she saw her on Monday morning. Beyond asking if she needed anything and insisting that she would be more than happy to run out and get food or whatever else Éowyn desired she kept a polite distance. Éowyn supposed the other woman had been on the receiving hand of a fist often enough to know what it felt like and at that thought Éowyn hoped that Johanne Harriman was burning in whatever hell she was in. Merrill, on the other hand, had near burst into tears when she first saw Éowyn but once she got over her initial waterworks she vowed that she would do whatever it took to help bring the killer down.

“No one hurts my friends and gets away with it,” she had said, her bottle green eyes still wet but her voice was hard. Éowyn remembered smiling at that, touched at the outrage Merrill felt on her behalf. She had stood in her office, fists clenched and cursed the killer, calling on the strength of her ancestors to punish him and bring misery upon his life. She’d sprinkled a few expletives in her speech that Éowyn had no idea that her friend knew existed much less be willing to speak them outloud. For all that she fluttered and appeared flaky Merrill was one of the strongest and most loyal people she knew. It took a certain kind of strength to strike out on your own, fight against the disapproval of your family in search of fulling your dreams. Éowyn knew that Merrill was on mostly good terms with her family but she also knew that they did not approve of Merrill breaking decades of tradition and dogma and strike out into what they termed a sinful city like Kirkwall so that she could paint. 

They weren’t necessarily wrong about Kirkwall but not all of it was bad. There was still some pockets of goodness. If you knew where to look.

The lack of activity was starting to get to Éowyn. She was not used to sitting around so much. Her father had told her once that she’d come out of the womb running and hadn’t slowed since. The walls of her apartment were starting to feel like they were closing in and as a result she was feeling more snappish than normal. She tried to stay busy by looking through her case files and tried to connect the dots she knew were there but it was like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle without all the pieces and the ones she had were warped.

It didn’t help that Aveline had basically cut her off from any information that guard had gathered. Even worse was the fact that she hadn’t had the energy to fight her over it at the time and now she was playing catch up. 

A cup of hot coffee sat at her elbow as she wrote out the events of the last two weeks, piecing together a timeline in order to see if she could find the pattern. There  _ had _ to be a pattern. It couldn’t be chaos or random, there had to be some meaning, some method to the killer’s madness. 

And she was not giving the killer enough credit by calling him mad. It took clever and careful planning to execute these murders over the years without getting caught. This was a person who was able to blend in, to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing as it were. How does one find someone who’s invisible?

“By shining a light into dark corners and wait for the cockroaches to scatter.”

“What’s that?” asked Sebastian as he came out of the kitchen carrying a cloth covered plate.

“Trying to figure out how to flush this bastard out into the open. Ninette de Carrac’s still missing. There’s a chance, a slim one I admit, but a chance that we can find her before he kills her.” Her pen fumbled out of her hand and skittered across her desk. She reached out to grab it before it fell and hissed in pain as her ribs protested. 

“Dammit! When I find him I’m going to sink my boot so far up his ass his ancestors are going to feel it.” Éowyn clutched at her ribs and braced herself, breathing slowly in and out until the pain subsided. “I guess I should consider myself lucky that they’re just bruised and not cracked or broken but dammit they hurt.”

Sebastian set the plate down and knelt next to her, brushing his lips against her temple. “I think there’s still some of that salve if you want it. Or perhaps a hot bath would help.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but it’s too hot for a bath. Besides, I’d have to go to your place to get a bath.”

“The salve then?” he asked, his lips a whisper’s breath from her cheek. “A massage would do you good.”

“Do me good? Or you?” she murmured, a sly smile curving her lips.

“It’d be purely therapeutic, I promise. I don’t think you’re quite up to those types of activities just yet,” he said, placing another kiss just at the curve of her jaw before pulling back. He trailed his fingers down her cheek, gently smoothing over her skin, careful to avoid the light bruises still peppering her face. He stared into her eyes and Éowyn felt something flip in her stomach. Their relationship was still new and she wondered if he would always make her stomach flip like that. Even as it still unsettled her a little, she hoped so.

Clearing her throat she straightened in her chair. “Maybe later. I have a lot of work to do.”

He nudged the plate he’d brought over closer to her. “At least eat then. You’ll heal faster.”

Éowyn side-eyed him even as she picked up the sandwich. “You wouldn’t be mother-henning me, would you Vael?”

He dropped another kiss on her forehead. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I-.”

A loud knocking at the door interrupted him. Éowyn scowled at it, setting down the sandwich that she’d yet to take a bite of. She’d put a sign out saying that the office was temporarily closed but apparently some people either couldn’t read or didn’t think that it applied to them. It was really too bad that her old Mabari Ghost wasn’t still alive. He would have kept even the bravest person from knocking on her door. Maker, she missed that dog.

“Maybe if we ignore them they’ll go away,” she muttered, a notion that was disabused of when the person kept knocking, each knock louder than the last. Swearing she pushed up from her chair only for Sebastian to place a gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her back into her chair. He simply smiled at her scowl before skirting around the desk and headed toward the door. 

Éowyn glanced down at the plate next to her, her stomach rumbling and she hoped that whoever was demanding entry could be shooed off quickly. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until food was sitting before her.

Sebastian had barely opened the door before Ghyslain de Carrac barged in. His face was a splotchy red and Éowyn suspected that not all of it had to do with the weather or the fact that he’d had to walk up five flights of stairs as the elevator was currently out of commission. He wore the look of a man in high dungeon and was spoiling for a fight. He was breathing heavily even as he stabbed his finger at her. Maker’s balls, if he had a heart attack in her office...

“You. I paid you good money to find my wife. What do you have to show for it? I want answers,” he demanded between wheezes. He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his face. The action weakened his effort to intimidate her. If anything she felt mildly disgusted. “It’s been four days since then, Ninette’s been missing for nearly a week.  What progress have you made? Surely you have something.”

Éowyn froze. The fact that he was asking her for updates meant he hadn’t talked to the guard. And he should have. When she had given her statement to both Rutherford and Aveline she had mentioned the missing photos, including those of Ninette de Carrac. She found it hard to believe that neither of them would have followed up with de Carrac on that. She glanced over at Sebastian who was currently perched on the corner of Flora’s desk. The morning after she’d come home from the hospital she had told him all of what happened, everything from Emeric’s phone call, to the warehouse and what she’d found within, and some of the attack. She’d downplayed that part, not wanting to worry him more and if he’d seen through it he had kept it to himself.

“Have you talked with the guard, Mr de Carrac?”

“Why would I? I hired you to find my wife, not those incompetent fools.”

Éowyn steeled herself. “They should have contacted you by now.”

“They called my office and according to my housekeeper have stopped by the manor several times but I have nothing to say to them. They insult me with every breath they take.”

“The fact that they’ve tried multiple times to speak with would indicate that they just might have some questions. Important ones. I highly suggest that you speak with them, Mr de Carrac.”

de Carrac’s turned an even more unhealthy shade of red before paling. The man swayed on his feet but managed to steady. “What are you saying? Has Ninette been found?”

“No. Not yet but she has been taken.”

He was silent for maybe five seconds before color flushed his face again. “It was that singer. That Jethann person. You were supposed to talk to him. I hired you to talk to him, to get answers as to what he did with my wife.”

“And I will get those answers, Mr de Carrac, but these things can take time and as of yet there is not proof that Jethann is involved in Ninette’s disappearance.”

“He sent her flowers, wooed her. What more proof do you need?”

“Perhaps that Ninette, in finding that she was in an unhappy marriage went looking for happiness elsewhere. That makes them guilty of adultery and if that was a crime half of Kirkwall would be in jail.”

“Have you talked to him? You said you would.”

“I tried but he’s been out of town. He was supposed to be back Monday but was delayed in Val Royeaux. I will speak with him when he gets back. I know my job, Mr de Carrac.

“Out of town? Where? With who? Did he take my wife?”

“No, I don’t believe he did,” she told him straight. She thought back to the attack and the man who attacked her had a very different build than Jethann. Jethann was lithe, almost sprite-like and a good two inches shorter than her. Her attacker outweighed her by a good twenty pounds and had towered over her by several inches. Her brain was still a little foggy in regards to the attack thanks to the concussion she’d gotten but that much she was sure of.

“How can you be so sure? You said you haven’t spoken to him. Who else would take my Ninette.”

Éowyn clenched her jaw at the possessive way he spoke of Ninette. Until she’d found those photos of her she’d hoped that Ninette had indeed run off with Jethann and perhaps in a kinder universe that would have happened, but this was Kirkwall and kindness was difficult to find.

“The same man who has been kidnapping and murdering women before dumping them into the harbor.”

“The Mermaid Killer?” de Carrac scoffed. “I don’t believe you. What would he want with my Ninette? No, it was that singer.”

“You should believe me when I say that he has taken her. I don’t know where or we wouldn’t be having this conversation but I can assure you that I will find her.”

“And why should I believe you? I knew it was a mistake to hire you. You’re useless. Just like the guard.”

Sebastian, who had been perched on the corner of Flora’s desk, stiffened at de Carrac’s words and rose to his feet. Éowyn warned him off with a glance and the tiniest shake of her head before turning her attention back to de Carrac. Maker, she despised this man. 

“Mr de Carrac. I’ve been working on this case for barely a week and have given a lot to it.” More than you care to know about, she thought to herself. “Detective work is not like it is in the movies. It’s slow, often tedious, and takes time. If you want miracles go talk to the Grand Cleric.”

Sebastian snorted and unsuccessfully covered his laugh with a cough. Éowyn ignored him and kept her gaze fixed on de Carrac. 

“How dare you speak to me like this? I am your client, I hired you and you work for me.”

“No. I work for Ninette. You just pay my fee.”

“Not any longer. I knew it was a mistake coming to you. I should have known better than to expect results from the likes of you. You Fereldans are all alike, useless and lazy.” He jutted out his chin, his jowls wobbling at the movement. “And you will refund me my money. I don’t pay for no results.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, ace. I suggest you look more carefully at the contract you signed. It’s clearly outlined in the third paragraph that deposits are non-refundable. I have a copy here if you need to refresh your memory.”

“Ridiculous, I’ll not abide-.”

“Oh, but you will,” she told him coldly. “In the future you should actually read the terms and conditions before you sign them. I put them in place for exactly this kind of situation and for weasley clients like you.” Well, Varric had insisted but that was beside the point. “Now, I think it’s time for you to leave. I have work to do.”

“You can’t throw me out. I demand that you return my money.”

Éowyn reached under her desk and pulled out the combat knife she had kept from her days in the army. Its sharp edge glinted in the lamplight as she stood up and slammed it on the desk, not taking her eyes off de Carrac, ignoring the screech of pain that ran along her ribs. She watched with satisfaction as de Carrac’s face paled and he took a step back. It was grandstanding and maybe unnecessary but if it got him out of her office she could live with that.

“It’s been a while since I practiced throwing this thing but I’m sure it’s just like riding a bicycle.” She flipped the knife in her hand, letting it spin around her fingers before stabbing the point into her desk. Later she would be annoyed that she let him get to her but at the moment she was enjoying watching him squirm. 

“This is outrageous. You will hear from my lawyer, Hawke.”

“I look forward to it. Now get out.”

The Orlesian stumbled back, nearly tripping over his feet as he got to the door. Upon opening it he nearly fell into Fenris who had been raising his hand to knock. Her friend slid to the side as de Carrac scrambled out, a nonplussed look on his face as he watched the man scramble down the hallway. It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed Éowyn throwing someone out of her office. He let out a soft chuckle when he saw her set the knife aside and shook his head as he closed the door behind them.

“Was it necessary to threaten him?” Sebastian asked.

“No, but it was fun. I hope he peed a little. That would really brighten my day as long as none of it got on my floor.”

“I see you haven’t lost your touch, Hawke,” Fenris chuckled.

“Of course not. A bump on the head and a few bruises aren’t nearly enough to stop me from getting my point across.” Sebastian cleared his throat and she just rolled her eyes. “Fine. A  _ minor _ concussion and bruised ribs. Still not letting that stop me.”

“Perish the thought. You’re mean when you’re angry.”

“Annoyed more like but I see your point,” she said, a smirk plastered across her face. “To what do we owe the honor?”

“Can’t a guy stop by to see how his friend is doing?”

“Of course he can, it’s just that you usually don’t.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’re here to give me bad news.”

Fenris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Not bad news, per se. First, I was told you probably needed more of this.” He tossed a small tin over to her. Before she could even reach out to catch it, Sebastian nipped it out of the air in front of her. She’d barely seen him move. Scowling she took the tin from him when he handed it to her, recognizing it as one of Anders.

“So, what? You’re a delivery boy now? He couldn’t be bothered to bring it by himself?” It wasn’t the first time in the last week that he’d gotten someone else to bring something to her. He’d somehow conned Osric into bringing her car over. She hadn’t put too much thought to it at the time but him not bringing over his salve so he could scold her put a different spin on it.

“He’s in one of his moods. Barely said two civil words to me.”

“He rarely says two civil words to you period, Fenris, why would this time be any different?”

“Point taken,” he grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “He’s still acting like an ass.”

“When isn’t he lately?”

“I’m sorry, I must be missing something. Is Anders mad at you for something?” Sebastian asked.

Éowyn pursed her lips, remembering that day on the street when they had argued. She hadn’t told Sebastian about it, hadn’t really thought to if she really thought about it, but seeing as this latest snit of Anders’ seemed to be lasting longer than normal perhaps she should say something.

“Anders is a good man,” she said even as Fenris snorted. Éowyn shot him a glare before continuing. “He is but he can be a bit-.”

“Of an ass? Jealous? Obsessive? All around martyr?”

“Fenris.”

“What? It’s all true.”

“He’s had a rough time of it here in Kirkwall. The hospital board won’t let him practice for bullshit reasons so he operates an illegal clinic. He helps those who the city won’t.”

“So do you, but you aren’t an asshole about it.”

“Well, that depends on the person’s point of view.” She gestured to the door that de Carrac had just exited before she carefully sat down, bracing her side with her hand. “That one is probably running to the nearest guard to complain about his treatment by this dirty Fereldan.”

“He’s Orlesian. They think anyone who isn’t Orlesian is dirty and beneath notice.”

“True, but that’s not the point Fenris,” she paused. “What was the other reason you graced us with your presence?”

Fenris sighed, running his hand through his hair again. “Merrill’s worried you won’t be able to come to her opening.”

Her brows crinkled together. She shot Sebastian a look but he looked just as confused as she felt. “Of course I’m going. Why would she think otherwise?”

“For the very same reason I brought you that salve. She told Isabela that she tried to talk to Xenon to change the date to next Saturday instead of this one but apparently the invitations had already been sent.”

“That’s very sweet of her to try but she should have known that Xenon wouldn’t change the date even if the invitations hadn’t already been sent.”

“Darling, I don’t think that occurred to her. You’re one of the most important people in her life. I don’t think that she’d feel like the opening was a success if you weren’t there.”

She frowned. “Why are people assuming that I’m not going? I’d be there even if I had to go in a wheelchair. Not that I’ll need one,” she added quickly when both men raised their eyebrows at her. “But if it came down to it I would swallow my pride and roll myself in there.”

“And you wonder why your friends are so loyal to you,” Sebastian chuckled softly. “But you are going to have to do something you won’t like before you can go.”

Éowyn’s brows crinkled. “What are you talking about? I don’t have anything besides work and I’m currently at a dead end there until I can sweet talk Aveline into giving me whatever she can that they gathered at the crime scene.”

“Darling, I’ve seen your closet and it’s a bit lacking in appropriate wear for the showing.”

Éowyn groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked up in time to see Fenris covering a smile with his hand. The corner of Sebastian’s mouth was turned up, a teasing light dancing in his eyes.

“I’m so very glad that the two of you find this so amusing.” She jabbed a finger at Sebastian. “I blame you for this. I never had to worry about my wardrobe before you came along.”

“Well…” Fenris drawled before wisely shutting his mouth at Éowyn’s glare.

“Isabela dragging me into Elegant’s shop once a year doesn’t count. Besides she basically blackmails me into doing it.” She dragged a hand through her hair, sighing in resignation. It was pointless to argue about this as she knew that invitation or not, Xenon would never let her in the door if she wasn’t properly dressed. She’d never actually met the man, he liked to keep an air of mystery and exclusivity about him, but she’d heard enough that he had certain standards, a dress code being one of them.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” she promised. “Maker knows I have plenty of other things that have a higher priority but I’ll go. I can swing by the guard station and see if Aveline can tell me anything about what they’ve found.”

“Good luck with that,” said Fenris. “There’s, uh, something else you should know.”

“Did Varric hire you as the town crier or something?”

“No.” A pause. “Isabela made me.”

Éowyn tried not to laugh, she really did, but the put out look on his face triggered a giggle within her that once started only grew in intensity. Even Sebastian chuckled at Fenris’ consternation at being Isabela’s errand boy.

“What, did you lose another bet?”

“Yes,” he said, his jaw tightening. Éowyn only laughed harder despite the pain it caused in her ribs. She braced them with her hand as tears started pricking the corners of her eyes.

“I’m glad you’re finding this so amusing.”

Éowyn wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s only funny because you keep making bets with her and you keep losing. Was it Wicked Grace? You know she cheats, right? There comes a time when you should know when to quit when you’re ahead, my friend.”

“She wouldn’t win if she didn’t play by the Rivaini rules,” he insisted.

“You keep telling yourself that. Now, what else is it that you think that I should know?” she asked, forcing the giggles down.

Fenris sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Merrill invited that old professor of hers, Orsino.”

Éowyn inhaled sharply, sitting straighter in her chair as her mirth fizzled at his words. “She what?”

“She invited him to the opening. Apparently told Isabel that it wouldn’t feel right if he wasn’t there.”

“Merrill doesn’t owe that old windbag anything.”

“She thinks so,” Fenris told her.

“Who is this Orsino? His name sounds vaguely familiar.”

Éowyn sighed, slumping back in her chair. Her appetite dampened, she nudged the plate with her sandwich away from her. “He teaches art down at the Circle. Merrill took some of his classes when she first came to Kirkwall. If you ask me the man is more concerned with butting heads with Meredith than teaching his students.”

“Why would an art professor and the head of the templars butt heads?” Sebastian asked.

“Because of the austerity measures Meredith keeps trying to push through. He tried to rope his students into his crusade, got more than a few of them arrested, nearly ruining their lives. I managed to convince Merrill to get out before he sucked her in further.” 

“Too bad you couldn’t convince Anders of the same.”

“Don’t think that I didn’t try. Stubborn asshole wouldn’t listen.”

“Well, when you constantly have your head up your ass it’s hard to hear others.”

Éowyn just sighed, suddenly too tired to argue with him. They’d had this discussion before, most often after Anders was especially being a pain in the ass with his crusade. It wasn’t that Éowyn disagreed with anything that Anders was saying about Meredith and her efforts to set Kirkwall back fifty years but writing long-winded manifestos wasn’t going to solve anything.

“I appreciate the heads up. Hopefully I will be less inclined to punch him in the face this way.” She rolled her eyes when Sebastian started at her words. “No, I wouldn’t punch him to begin with. Not going to lie, I’d be tempted but I’m not going to do anything that would ruin Merrill’s night. She deserves her moment to shine and not have anyone drag it through the mud.”

“Why do I have the feeling that if anyone tries you’ll be the first in line to punch them?”

Éowyn gave Sebastian a feral smile. “What do you think?”

He simply sighed in response, clearly not expecting a different answer. “I guess I’ll be holding your coat.”

She did a double take, not expecting that response from him but then slowly at him until her grin spread across her face. Fenris gaped at both of them. “And here I thought that he would be a calming influence on you. You’re both mad.” He shook his head. “I have to get back to the club. I’ll tell Isabela that you’re going dress shopping tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Fenris gave her a gamine smile. “What do you think?” 

“Bastard. That’s just mean. You know she’ll drag me to every shop she can think of. I’ve got shit to do.”

“Go with the third dress she picks out. You know she’ll make you try on at least three and if you pick the first one she’ll just make you try on more.”

“That’s… that’s actually brilliant. You’re brilliant Fenris.”

“I have my moments,” he smirked. “I suggest you get a good night’s sleep. Isabela’s sure to be round early to get you to the shops as they open. Early bird or something like that.” With that he ducked out the door before Éowyn could even think to throw anything at him.

“Well, that was entertaining,” said Sebastian.

“Careful you, or I’ll bring you along with us.”

“Watching you try on different gowns would not be a trail for me.”

Éowyn snorted. “I’m sure it wouldn’t, pervert.” She spun in her chair to look at him, tapping the fingers of her right hand on the desk. Sebastian gave her a smile as he walked over to the door and turned the lock, pulling down the shade over the glass without taking his eyes off her. Something dark and warm pooled in her stomach as he walked back toward her. Stopping before her, he places his hand on the arm rests of her chair and leaned forward, brushing his lips lightly against hers before leaning in further for a deeper kiss. Éowyn reached up with her hand and wove her fingers into his hair, wanting to keep him close. Between the new case, their argument, and the killer attacking her and putting her in the hospital she missed the feel of him against her. Sure he’d been here helping her recover but he’d been careful in his touches, as if he was afraid that he’d aggravate her injuries and impede her recovery.

It frustrated her to no end.

Oh she knew she was nowhere near being back to her normal self but it didn’t stop her wanting him, didn’t stop the craving she had for his touch. She wished that she could bottle up his smell so that she could keep it with her always.

At that thought something pinged in her brain. She pulled back, her eyes wide as the thoughts tumbled through her brain.

“What? What is it?” he asked, quickly stepping back as she stood up and rifled through the papers on her desk. “You’ve thought of something.”

“Yes. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“You are anything but stupid,  _ mo chridhe _ .”

“It’s not that, it’s-. Ah, there it is,” she cried, digging out a slim notebook from under one of the piles.”

“Not to criticize, but perhaps you would find things quicker and easier if you kept things a bit tidier.”

“I know where everything is. It works for me,” she said as she flipped through the notebook, running her finger down each page as she quickly scanned the contents. “There. Why didn’t I see it before?”

“See what before?” Sebastian asked, leaning over her shoulder.

“When my brain was clear enough after the attack I wrote down everything that happened during the attack, everything that I saw, including descriptions of the photographs of the women. I don’t have all of it, some parts are still a bit sticky but it’s enough I think, just enough.”

“Darling, I love that brain of yours but you need to actually complete a thought out loud if you want me to know what you’ve uncovered.”

She turned around, nearly shoving the notebook at him, pointing to a spot on the page. “Here, I wrote it out here. He’s taking pieces of them. Trophies if you will. I didn’t see it before because I hadn’t seen all the bodies, just the first one and then Mharen’s, but the women in those photographs were missing body parts. Some fingers here, a toe there. The ears on another. If you didn’t know better, and apparently I didn’t, you’d just think it was the result of some hungry fish in the bay. That’s why he dumps them there, to hide what he’s taken.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not without looking at the coroner’s report, no, not absolutely, but I feel it in my gut Sebastian. I’ve got to get Aveline to let me see those reports.”

“And this will help you find him?”

Her steel-grey eyes fired at his words. “Maybe. He’d have to keep them somewhere cool to prevent decay. There are chemicals to help preservation, there would be records of purchases of such things. They wouldn’t be easy and probably not cheap to acquire. This could be it Sebastian. This could be how we catch him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos are much appreciated. Comments as well!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com. There be nerdy shit there. :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:  
> 1) There be smut ahead!  
> 2) I do make a reveal here regarding Hawke's ability to have children. I alluded to it in City of Chains but didn't outright say it until now. Just a heads up.

Éowyn scrambled through everything she had and created a new board, thankful that she’d had Flora go out and get more cork boards. At this rate she’d have to clear space off the walls. She didn’t have much beyond what she’d scribbled in her notebook but it was enough to give her a starting point, something to give her a direction to go in. She’d been floundering, anxiety rising as she felt Ninette’s time run out. Despite what she said out loud about how it was possible they could find Ninette alive, deep down she knew the chances of that were slim to none.

At one point Sebastian had shoved the sandwich he made into her hands and she’d eaten it more out of reflex than anything else. Her coffee had long gone past cold, something she discovered when she took a huge swallow to wash down the sandwich. She grimaced even as she took another swallow, hoping the caffeine would give her the burst of energy she needed.

“At the risk of interrupting your flow, may I ask what brought on this burst of inspiration?”

“What?” she asked distractedly as she placed another notecard on the board. “Oh, I was just thinking that I wanted to bottle up your smell and it occured to me that the killer was doing something similar. Dammit, where are my extra cards?”

There was a moment of silence behind her, one long enough for her to notice and glance back at him. He was leaning against her desk, watching her work, a bemused expression on his face.

“What?”

“I’m just not sure if I should be offended or not that me kissing you led you to thinking about how the killer is collecting body parts.”

Éowyn went still, her brain clicking on how it could be interpreted and flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, ah, it’s a compliment?”

He laughed. “I guess I’m going to have to take it as such.” She smiled back at him and turned back to the board. Looking at it she realized that she was getting to the point where she couldn’t do anything without more information, like the coroner’s reports that she hoped to be able to finagle out of Aveline. The floor creaked behind her and then a pair of arms wrapped around her, gently pulling her against a broad chest. It was tempting, so very tempting to lean into his embrace but she wanted to work the board just a little more. She felt him press his lips to her hair before resting his chin on the top of her head.

“You should get some sleep. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you tomorrow between shopping with Isabela and badgering Aveline.”

“Oh and what fun that will be.” Sighing, she gave in and leaned into him, savoring this quiet moment. She had a feeling this would be one of the last ones until the killer was caught and she might as well take advantage of it. “I suppose you’re right. There’s not much more I can do without those reports. I’ll need to make the rounds to see who might sell the preserving fluid. There can’t be that many considering Andrasteans cremate rather than embalm and bury.”

“You might try the Circle. There’s a medical school there that might have the compounds you’re looking for. They use it for preserving bodies so students can study them. As you can imagine, not too many Kirkwallians are willing to donate their bodies to science.”

She turned in his arms and grabbed his face, kissing him hard. Pulling back she gave him a dazzling smile. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“My tutors would disagree with you but I’ll take it. I wasn’t what they would term the most attentive student.”

“Well, I appreciate your genius.”

“I feel like I should be concerned that you’re associating me with dead bodies.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, sliding one hand down his chest and lower to palm him through his pants. She smiled as she felt him twitch against her hand.

“Don’t start something you aren’t sure you can finish.”

“I’m pretty sure I can finish you off,” she said, giving him a light squeeze as she leaned up to nip the underside of his jaw. She couldn’t quite tell if his groan was from her actions or the bad pun but he definitely grew harder under her hand as she stroked him.

“Dirty pool, _mo chridhe_.” His hands clenched at her waist but she noticed that he was still careful to avoid the bruising on her ribs. She felt him lightly tug on her shirt, pulling it from her pants before his fingers danced along her waist, his touch teasing her just as much as hers was.

“Yes, well, I rarely play fair. What are you going to do about it?”

“I have a few ideas,” he said as his hands slid down over her ass, lifting her up. Éowyn wrapped her legs around his waist, her hand caught between them. His mouth seized hers as he carried her back to the bedroom, laying her carefully on the unmade bed. He hovered over her, balancing himself on his arms with one leg between hers as he deepened the kiss. Éowyn blindly and nimbly worked the buckle to his belt and slid the zipper of his pants down. With one less barrier she could feel the heat of him against her hand. Wanting more, she slid her hand into his boxers and lightly squeezed. Sebastian gasped and thrusted against her hand. It was good but not enough.

His hands were just as busy unbuttoning her shirt and spreading it open, exposing her chest to his lips. Éowyn arched into his gentle touch, smiling even as she shivered when his lips touched that sensitive spot just behind her ear. A weighty breath escaped her as he worked down the column of her neck. His fingers grazed her side and she couldn’t stop from flinching as he brushed against a still tender spot. Sebastian jerked back as if he’d be burned.

“I’m so sorry. Maybe this isn’t a good idea, at least not until you’re back to health.”

“Sebastian, I’ve literally got you by your cock, do you really think that I want to stop because of a little twinge?” She reached up with her other hand, her fingers tracing along the curve of his jaw. “I’ve missed you. I need…” she trailed off for a second, staring up into his eyes. “I need to feel like something’s normal for at least a little while. I want us to take a moment just for us that doesn’t involve work or you taking care of me.”

“Taking care of you is no hardship.” When she just raised an eyebrow he had to laugh. “Alright, it’s _mostly_ not a hardship. You are rather stubborn, you know, refusing to stay in bed and take your medicine.”

“You’re not nearly scary enough to make me do that. Nurse Bennett on the other hand, that woman could glare the Maker into staying in bed without breaking a sweat.” Her lips curved into a sly smile as she slowly slid her hand out from his pants. “Besides, I can think of a few ways around what you’re worried about.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Get up.”

“But I thought-.”

“Shhh. Just get up. Off the bed.”

Sebastian pushed himself up and off her. Light from the full moon shone through the window, highlighting his frame. Éowyn pushed herself up, kneeling before him on the bed. She kept his gaze as she tugged his shirt out from his pants and slowly unbuttoned it one button at a time. After the last button was undone she spread it open, sliding the soft material over his shoulders and down his arms, tracing his muscles as she went. She slapped his hand away and tutted at him when he started to reach for her.

“Patience,” she said before leaning forward to place open mouthed kisses down his chest. She swirled her tongue around one of his nipples before lightly scraping it with her teeth. Sebastian made a sound somewhere between a hiss and a sigh when she did the same to the other nipple. She slowly straightened, dragging her tongue along his skin before pulling back, placing feather light kisses along his jaw as her hands drifted downward and fully undid his trousers. The linen fabric slid down his legs with a whisper, landing in a puddle at his feet. Éowyn bit her lower lip as she let her fingers play along the edge of the waistband of his boxers. Glancing down she could see the fabric tented as his hard cock strained against its confines.

Sliding her fingers inside the waistband, she slowly pulled down his boxers, his cock springing free as she did. Sebastian groaned again at its release and she watched as his fingers twitched at his side. As the boxers joined his trousers on the floor she drew her fingers up his thighs, her thumbs brushing over his hips bones. His cock brushed against her stomach as she kneeled before him, the tip already wet with pre-cum. Keeping one hand on his hip, she used her other to trace the veins of his cock from the base, stroking upwards until she reached the crown. She smoothed her thumb over it, collecting some of the pre-cum and smeared it over its head. His head fell back as she slowly stroked him, groaning louder when she leaned forward to kiss just under his jaw.

His hands came to her waist, gripping the shirt she still wore and pulled her closer. He sought her mouth as he stripped her of it and her bra, his teeth nipping at her lips. Éowyn slid her fingers up and down his cock, feeling the heavy and hot weight of it. She experimentally gave him a little squeeze and felt a rush of excitement when he thrust into her hand. It was a heady experience to have this much power over him, made even more so with the knowledge that he could play her body just as well.

She felt his fingers tug at her waistband. It was a toss-up as to whether he was wanting her closer or if it was a silent signal that it was past time for her to lose her pants as well. Not quite ready to give up her game, Éowyn broke their kiss and moved down his chest, leaving open-mouthed kisses in her wake.

He jerked forward when she gently blew over his cock and her name came out of his mouth in a strangled whisper. She swirled her tongue over the tip, tasting him on her lips. Salty and musky at the same time.

“You don’t have to--ah,” he said, his voice strained as she swirled her tongue around again before kissing the tip. She closed her lips over the head, humming slightly before pulling back, tracing the slit with her tongue as she did. Her core ached and she could feel her panties growing wet. This was just as much torture for her as it was for him.

She made to take him in again when her body betrayed her as pain spiked through her ribs. Éowyn tried to suppress it but Sebastian must have caught her grimace as he caught her by the shoulders and set her back.

“Why don’t you let me have a turn. Lie back,” he said as he kicked his clothes to the side. It wasn’t so much of a suggestion as an order. Éowyn untucked her legs, letting them dangle over the edge of the bed as she leaned back on her forearms. Sebastian stood in front of her wreathed in moonlight as he reached down and unfastened her trousers. Gently he slid them down, Éowyn only having to tilt her hips a little in assistance.

She watched him as he knelt before her. He lifted one of her legs and kissed her instep, his lips moving slowly up her leg, his hot breath caressing her skin as he went. His tongue darted out and licked the inside of her knee while his other hand smoothed up her leg, spreading her open to him. He paused to trace over the puckered scars over her hip and pelvis, skipping over her thigh to press light kisses against them. It still amazed her that he wasn’t bothered by them. She’d only been with two others since Ostagar, both of the relationships brief, and both of them had treated her scars like an oddity. It just made her love him all the more that he paid such honor to them.

Her hips jerked when he ran a finger over her clothed mound. A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Turnabout is fair play my dear and oh how wet you are, you’re nearly soaked through these,” he said before catching the edge of her panties with his teeth and tugged them down. Éowyn would have helped but her arms were quivering with the effort of holding herself upright. He inched her panties down, placing kisses in their wake. Rather than wait for her to lift her hips he simply tore them at their seam. At her grunt of displeasure he simply smiled at her.

“They were already flimsy. I did you a favor.”

“One of these times we’re going to do this and you won’t tear them off,” she told him.

He gave small shrug before dipping his head and running his tongue along the length of her. Already sensitized, she cried out, not in pain this time but pleasure. Her thighs quivering it took every ounce of control to keep her position and not fall back completely on the bed. She made it through his next lap of his tongue but the third broke her, sending her back into the mattress and arching against his mouth, wanting him closer.

He used his thumbs to spread open her folds and flicked his tongue against her clit. When she arched into his mouth he flicked it again and inserted a finger inside her, her juices quickly coating it and the second that soon followed. Nearly every time they made love he did this, knowing that it brought her the most pleasure. With his tongue and fingers he made love to her, keeping the rhythm slow and steady. The wave of her orgasm was rising when he inserted a third finger and curled them up, brushing against that most sensitive spot. Éowyn cried out, reaching down to fist her hand in his hair to keep him in place as she rode out the orgasm. Gasping for breath with sweat beading over her skin.

She felt him pull back and rest his chin just over her pelvis. Once she was able to catch her breath, she pushed herself up a little to see him give her a lazy smile, his lips and chin wet with her juices.

“Please with yourself, are you?”

“It always pleases me to please you.”

“Goes both ways, pal.”

“Are you sure you can handle more?” Even with his pupils blown wide with desire he still showed concern for her, not wanting to push her more than she could take.

“Why don’t you come up here and we’ll find out.”

He paused for a second, a questioning look on his face. She nodded toward her bedside table. With a slightly predatory look, he crawled up her body, his normally tidy hair mussed and falling over one eye. His body felt like a furnace as he settled against her and she had the fleeting thought that if they were ever in Ferelden she’d never be cold as long as he was next to her. Sebastian always ran hot, even more so when he was aroused. Reaching up she brushed his hair back, cupping his cheek and just stared at him, stared into those bright blue eyes.

“I love you.”

He closed his eyes briefly and leaned into her hand, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm. When he looked back at her the intensity of the emotion on his face nearly swept her away.

“ _Mo chridhe, bidh gaol agam ort fad mo bheatha, thusa 's gun duine eile.”_

Her toes curled slightly as he spoke those words to her. She wasn’t entirely sure what he’d said but she could sense the emotion behind them and felt it in her heart.

He kissed her then and she felt every ounce of his love. What he couldn’t say in words, either in common or in the tongue of his ancestors, he said with the way he kissed her. There, in his arms, she had never felt safer, never felt more loved.

As he kissed her, his body moved over her, his cock rubbing over her still sensitized clit. She hiked a leg up and wrapped it around his waist to pull him closer as he wove his fingers into hers. Just when she thought that she couldn’t take anymore he pulled back. Leaning over to her bedside table he opened the drawer and rummaged around before pulling out a rubber. Normally she helped to put it on as she felt the act made it a sort of ceremony between them but this time she lay back and watched as he unrolled the rubber down over his still hard cock. He had to be close to bursting by now. Once he was done she reached for him and helped guide him in.

Maker, she loved how he felt as he slid into her and began to move. He was still gentle with her in his movements. Gliding in and out of her slowly as they moved together. Their breath mingled as he stared into her eyes. Éowyn found that she couldn’t look away, like she was being drawn in. It felt like she was being hypnotized by his gaze and the way he enveloped her.

Ignoring the protest from her ribs, she wrapped her legs high around his waist, giving him another angle. He thrust deep, hitting her core and she felt herself start to fall apart again. As his pace increased he reached between them and rubbed tight circles around her clit. Éowyn buried her face into his shoulder, her teeth finding the notch where it joined his neck. She coiled tighter around him as she reached that peak, a hoarse cry springing from her lips as she crested over. With her blood rushing in her ears she heard his shout as he found his own completion.

She felt her inner walls spasm as her orgasm ran its course. Sebastian’s face was buried in her neck, his hot breath ghosting over her skin. Before she could say anything, he carefully rolled them over so that she lay splayed over him. Good thing too as she wasn’t sure she was capable of moving at that moment. She lay there, comfortable in his arms and listened to his heart as it slowed and settled back into its normal rhythm. One of his hands lay possessively on her hip, holding her to him as she idly twiddled the ends of his hair between her fingers.

The afterglow was shattered as sirens blared outside. Several by the sounds of it. Sighing, Éowyn pushed herself up, letting him slide out of her. She looked down and her breath caught in her throat. She felt the telltale trickling of cum trickling down her thigh as she stared at the broken rubber. Intellectually she knew it happened, they weren’t one-hundred percent foolproof but it still caught her off guard. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d dived in so to speak without protection but for some reason this time made her pause.

“Éowyn?” She looked up to see Sebastian looking at her with a worried look on his face. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

She could only shake her head at first as something knotted in her chest. Concern spreading across his face, Sebastian sat up and it was then that he noticed the broken rubber hanging off his softening cock. Silence stretched out between them as they both stared at it. The knot in her chest grew larger until she was finding it difficult to breath.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Sebastian sat up fully, taking her face in his hands. “Just breathe, _mo chridhe_ , breathe. It will be okay.”

Éowyn let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sob. Sebastian’s brows wrinkled with worry as he brushed her hair back, tucking a strand behind her ear. The gentleness of the gesture almost undid her.

“It’s okay,” he said again. “Whatever happens we’ll deal with it.”

This time she did let out a sob as the knot in her chest twisted even more. “You don’t understand,” she whispered.

“Understand what? Please tell me.”

Unable to say the words she took his hand and laid it over her hip the one laced with scars from the shrapnel that had hit her in Ostagar. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at him, silently begging him to understand. The surgeon had told her they’d had to remove one of her ovaries in the surgery, that it had been shredded from the blast. It was why she had lost so much blood; she’d been so weak afterward. He’d urged her to see a specialist as soon as she could but she’d been too afraid to, too afraid to know the answer.

“It might not be possible,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from holding in the tears. Her head sank and she stared at their hands, her pale ones covering his tanned one. “I don’t-.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. Éowyn’s head snapped up. Confusion spreading through her. How could it not matter?

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated, laying his other hand over hers. “What happens, happens. What doesn’t happen, doesn’t. Either way we’ll deal with it. Together.”

She wanted to tell him the whole of it then but she couldn’t get the words out. Children had never been a part of her life plan. They in fact scared the shit out of her most of the time, especially the tiny ones, but when the doctor had told her that it might never be a possibility something within her broke a little. It was just one more thing that the war had taken from her.

Nodding, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, wishing the pain away. She felt his arms come around her as he pulled her into his lap. The tears came then, silently streaming down her face and onto his chest. Sebastian rocked her gently in his arms, pressing his lips to her hair. Eventually her tears ran out and exhaustion set in. As her limbs loosened and she sagged against him, she heard him whisper those words again as she fell asleep in his arms.

“ _Tha mi gad ghràdhachadh daonnan agus gu bràth_.”

* * *

Her dreams were restless and yet blurred. She couldn’t remember the content, it was more of a feeling of being trapped in a kaleidoscope that spun wildly around her. There was a vague memory of waking up with a sob in her throat and then strong arms pulling her in. All things considered they were pretty mild compared to what she was used to.

Sometime in the night a loud pounding woke her from her fitful sleep. As she stirred she felt Sebastian lay a hand on her arm, murmuring in her ear to go back to sleep, that he would take care of it. Éowyn turned her face into her pillow and tried to shut out the world. Voices floated in from the other room, hushed and urgent. Unable to ignore it, Éowyn sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest as she cleared the fog from her mind. Even though they kept their voices low there was no mistaking that it was Aveline knocking on her door and that she was not happy.

“Fuck.”

Easing off the bed she looked around for her clothes but she had no idea where Sebastian had tossed them when he was undressing her. Spying her robe lying on the foot of the bed she snatched it up and shrugged it on. As she was belting it around her she noticed a fresh pair of panties also lying on the bed. He really was a nurturer, showing just how much he cared not only in words but also deeds.

Sighing, she scrubbed her face to wake herself up and padded into her office.

Sebastian stood in front of her, his arms crossed and was effectively barring Aveline from entering any further into the office. Aveline for her part looked tired and angry. Her jaw was so clenched that Éowyn wouldn’t be surprised if she cracked it in two. Her heart sank as she realized that there could only be one reason why her friend was here.

“You found her, didn’t you? You found Ninette.”

“Yes, a couple of hours ago. He changed dumping grounds. Left her in the public pool over on Seventh. Scared the shit out of the teenagers who jumped the fence for some midnight skinny dipping.”

Éowyn paused while she absorbed the news. She logically knew that Ninette’s fate had been sealed the moment she’d been taken but there’d still been a kernel of hope, however small, that she’d find her in time. It was stupid to blame herself but she couldn’t help it.

“What did he take?”

Aveline gave her a sharp look. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Aveline. What part of her did he take?”

“Her feet,” she said. “How did you know?”

“I got a good look at the photographs he left for me before he attacked. It didn’t click for me until tonight and I was finally able to put some of the pieces together.”

“I see,” Aveline said carefully, spotting the boards that Éowyn had set up. She pursed her lips even as she frowned at them. “Why are you still working on this? Your first client is dead and the second fired you from what I was told tonight when I made the notification.”

“Because I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You’re not a member of the guard, Hawke. It isn’t your job to find this killer.”

“You’re right. I’m not a member of the guard which means I don’t have to do what you tell me. As a private investigator I’d say I’m well within my rights to find him. My job description is right there in the name; I investigate. That’s why you’re here aren’t you? To find out what I might know? To help you play catch up?”

“Dammit, Hawke, this doesn’t have to be difficult. We both want the same thing.”

Éowyn leveled her a look. “You’re right, we do. I can find him Aveline. If it makes you feel better you can hire me as a consultant rather than have me out there in the wild with no supervision. That should appease Bran.”

“Bran Cavin is an arrogant piece of shit who would rather the guard look pretty than actually do their jobs, you know that. If he were to hear that I hired you on as a consultant he’d probably have a coronary.”

“All the more reason to hire me then. Also, can I be there when you tell him? You know how much he loves me.”

Aveline shook her head, trying and failing to suppress a laugh. “The line between love and hate there is razor thin.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and Éowyn could see the bags hanging under her eyes. Aveline loved her job, that much was readily apparent, but Éowyn knew that the stress of it weighed upon her.

“Look, I’m not here to make your life difficult. More difficult,” she amended when Aveline gave her a sour look. “Stick Donnic with me if you must. I mean, I’d rather you didn’t, but if it makes you feel better I’ll work with him.”

“Donnic has his own duties and I love him too much to saddle him with you.” She held up a hand when Éowyn began to protest. “I know, I know, you work best alone.”

“I ask for help when I need it,” she said defensively. “For instance, if we’re going to do this I need to look at the coroner’s reports on the known victims. And those of any suspected victims. There were photographs of eleven women, I’d like to see if we can find them. They deserve justice.”

“Yes, they do,” Aveline sighed. “Alright, I’ll give you access. But, you need to stay away from Ghyslain de Carrac. He really doesn’t like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, trust me. Don’t worry, I won’t go near him. Unless I’ve really misread him I sincerely doubt he’s the killer.”

“He is more the type to come after you with a lawyer. Something you should probably consider the next time you threaten someone, my dear,” Sebastian said.

Éowyn rolled her eyes. “I only threatened him a little.”

“Hawke.”

“What? It’s true. And it was only after he tried to wiggle out of the contract he signed. If anyone should go for a lawyer it’s me.”

“Why don’t we just try to avoid lawyers for now. I’ll let records know that you’ll be coming around for the files. They won’t let you take anything but you’ll have access to the files.”

“Oh goody, more time in a dusty cavern surrounded by stacks of boxes and file cabinets. Sounds like fun.”

“I should think a little desk work would be good for now. You’re still recovering after all.”

Éowyn wrinkled her nose at Sebastian. “I’m a fast healer. I think I proved that tonight.”

“Yes. Quite.”

Aveline cleared her throat, clearly understanding the subtext and just as clearly not comfortable hearing it. “You asked for the reports, Hawke. You can’t bitch about it when you get your way. When can I tell the records keeper that you’ll be around.”

“Hopefully before noon. It depends on how quick I can convince Isabela that I don’t need to try on every dress in the city.” At Aveline’s blank look she just sighed. “It’s for Merrill’s opening. You don’t honestly think I’d go dress shopping for no reason, do you?”

“Just go with black. A black dress never goes wrong. Works for every situation.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yes, well. I have to get back to it. You will let me know if you find anything.”

“I have a couple of trees to shake. If anything falls out you’ll be the first to know.”

“That would be a refreshing change.” She lingered for a moment and Éowyn was almost certain that Aveline was going to say something but then she just nodded and said her goodbyes. When they were alone again Éowyn turned to Sebastian.

“What did you tell her?”

“Just that you were getting some much needed sleep,” he said, stepping forward and taking up her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Something you could use more of. I suspect the coming days are going to be quite busy.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” She took a deep breath. “I suppose you want the full story.”

He paused for a half second, pressing another kiss to her hand. “Only if you want to tell it. But maybe it’s a conversation for another time. I wasn’t kidding about you needing more sleep. You look half dead on your feet.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl, Vael.”

“I just want to help and if that means some mild nagging to get you to eat and sleep, so be it.”

Another sigh, this one a bit shakier. “Later. I promise. But yes, sleep now.”

Sebastian simply nodded and gave her a soft smile. She raised herself up onto her toes and pressed a light kiss to his lips.

“What was that for?”

“For you being you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“There’s no other place I’d rather be. Shall we?”

“Yes.” Éowyn leaned into his shoulder as they headed back to the bedroom, her arm linked in his. She truly loved his patience with her. Normally she would have asked what she’d done to deserve such a kind and patient man but at the same time she knew that she deserved to be loved. That she deserved to love and be loved and as they settled back into bed, sleep taking her under again she knew she had it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
>  _Mo chridhe, bidh gaol agam ort fad mo bheatha, thusa 's gun duine eile_ : My heart, I will love you my whole life, you and no other.  
>  _Tha mi gad ghràdhachadh daonnan agus gu bràth_ : I love you always and forever  
> (yes Sebastian is a total sap and we love him for it)
> 
> Thanks to everyone so much for sticking with me on this journey. This story means a lot to me and I've put a lot of myself into it. I appreciate each and every one of you. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are most welcome! You can find me on tumblr at scahill42.tumblr.com. There be nerdy shit there. :)
> 
> Thank you again for reading.


	12. Chapter 12

“What about this one?”

“While I agree, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, while I agree with our friend the good Guard Captain Vallen that you can’t go wrong with a little black dress I really do think we can do better than that. This is supposed to be a celebration, not a funeral.”

“I just want something simple and easy to move in.”

Isabela looked up from the gold lamé dress she was examining that was most definitely _not_ simple or easy to move in, a finely sculpted eyebrow arching upward. “Are you expecting trouble?”

“No, but I’d rather not have to have an engineering degree to get in and out of a stupid dress.”

“That’s what boyfriends and girlfriends are for sweetheart. You can’t tell me that devilishly handsome man of yours wouldn’t help you get dressed.” She gave Éowyn a sly look. “Or undressed.”

“All too willing,” Éowyn muttered under her breath, feeling her cheeks flush. “I just want something simple. It’s just an art opening for Maker’s sake, not the coronation of a new Divine.”

“Oh, darling, half the reason people go to these things are to see and be seen. More than half for some I’d say. It’s all about image.”

“I don’t give two shits about image. I’m there for Merrill and to support her.”

“Ladies, language, please.” A tiny Nevarran woman scowled at them from across the small salon, her bejeweled fingers tapping on the marble table she sat at.

“Oh hush, Alejandra. I’ve heard you say much worse,” Isabela said before turning back to Éowyn. “I’ll be there supporting our little kitten as well but there’s no reason why I can’t look fabulous at the same time.”

Éowyn rolled her eyes even as she smiled. They were in some shop in Hightown, only the second one and Éowyn seriously hoped that this would be the last one. She enjoyed spending time with Isabela, counting her among one of her closest friends but she had a killer to catch and guilt nagged at her that she was taking time to shop for a silly dress when she could be working the case.

“Speaking of the playboy turned choirboy turned whatever he is now, where is he? A little kitty told me he’s been spending quite a lot  time with you as of late.”

“Merrill needs to learn not to gossip,” Éowyn muttered. “He was helping me after I got out of the hospital but he got called up to Starkhaven today for something, couldn’t say what, but he’ll be back in time for the opening.”

“Helping, you say. Did he bring you breakfast in bed?”

“I don’t know if you mean that as an euphemism or not so I decline to answer.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. All that talk about how blue his eyes are and I don’t get any more details. Why do I put up with this?”

“Because you occasionally get to torture me with activities like this. What’s wrong with this one?” she asked, holding up a black dress she pulled at random from the rack

Isabela gave the dress Éowyn held up a critical eye. “Nothing, I suppose,” she said. “If you were going to a funeral or to court. Here, try this one.”

Éowyn took the dress from her, the soft moss-green colored fabric gliding through her fingers. “Is this silk?”

“Yes, and the color will go brilliantly with your skin. Stop being a ninny and go try it on already and we’ll see what needs to be adjusted.”

It crossed her mind as she went over to the dressing room that this was too easy, that if given half a chance Isabela would have her out all day trying on dresses, but she was talking about adjustments and that had to mean that this was almost over, right?. Praying that this wasn’t a trap, she quickly stripped down and took the dress off the hanger. Though it looked like it would fall apart at the slightest breeze, it was relatively easy to get on. When she tried to zipper up the back however, the twisting motion caused her to cry out in pain. The curtains ripped open and Isabela was there, lending her a supporting arm.

“Dammit, Hawke, you need to learn how to dodge a punch instead of just taking them.”

“He kicked me actually,” she said, exhaling slowly to ease the pain. “A couple of times.”

“Maybe we should be fitting you with steel plate armor instead of a dress.”

“Very funny. Just zip me up so we can be done with this. I have shit to do.”

“So impatient,” Isabela tutted as she drew the zipper up. Once done she laid her hands on Éowyn nearly bare shoulders, a gamine smile on her face. “There, look at you. Isn’t this worth all the trouble then?”

Éowyn stared at herself in the mirror. The dress seemed simple enough and yet it accentuated her features, hugging in the right places, draping in others. The sheer lace that covered the bodice and her upper arms was so delicate that she was afraid that if she breathed too heavily it might rip but it proved to be stronger than it looked. And Isabela was right, it did go with her skin tone quite brilliantly. She looked down and fingered the fabric, not so secretly enjoying the feel of it.

“I actually look pretty.”

Isabela swatted the back of her head. Éowyn scowled at her through the mirror, rubbing her head. “You’re fucking gorgeous, don’t you forget it. I don’t even think this needs to be adjusted at all and don’t make me pretend that doesn’t make me just a tiny bit jealous,” she said before giving her a thoughtful smile. “You know, in a different life we would make quite the couple.”

“Probably.”

“No probably about it but it’s pretty clear that your heart belongs to that tall drink of water from Starkhaven.”

“His name is Sebastian.”

“Oh, I know.” She gave her a pat on the shoulder. “And what’s this new trinket of yours? You’re not usually one for jewelry. Especially such a pretty piece. Where’d you get it?”

“Sebastian gave it to me. It was his grandmother’s.”

Isabela stared at her, her golden eyes flashing. “He gave you a family heirloom?”

“I suppose so.”

“You suppose so? Éowyn Hawke, if you don’t marry that man I will.”

“Oh, I, um.” Éowyn felt her face grow hot. Marriage? The thought made her a little dizzy. Yes there had been that nonsense with the whole made up engagement months ago but that had been a farce. Now however, now the idea had more weight.

“Look at you, all speechless and flushed. It’s adorable.”

“It’s just nothing we’ve talked about. So much has been going on.”

Isabela turned her around, her hands firm on her shoulders. “Now, you listen to me. It’s obvious to any idiot on the street how much he loves you, if you said the word he’d probably throw you over his shoulder and take you to the nearest Chantry.”

Éowyn snorted. “Wouldn’t that be a sight to see. My mother wouldn’t know whether to be appalled or if she should hold open the door.”

“Considering how hard she’s campaigned for you to get married and provide her with grandchildren, she’d sign the certificate for you if she could.”

“You might be right. It’s moot point anyway considering it’s not something that Sebastian and I have discussed.” Éowyn paused, thinking back to the broken rubber from the night before and the unspoken words she’d yet to say. He deserved to know the full story and not infer what she meant by gestures and tears alone. Maker’s balls, she didn’t know if children were a possibility or even if he wanted them. She wasn’t sure that _she_ wanted them. Neither of them had come from what could be called ideal families, both having parents with unrealistic expectations of their children. And her occupation didn’t exactly lend itself to motherhood.

Taking a deep breath she turned back to the mirror and shoved thoughts of marriage and children into a dark hole. It really was a lovely dress.

“Does this meet your standards? I can’t take anymore time away from the case.”

“I think it will do quite nicely. I saw it the other day and made sure they set it aside for you.”

Éowyn narrowed her eyes at her. “If you had this set aside why did you take me to that other shop when we could have just come here and been done.”

“Because I wanted you to have a choice. Just because _I_ love it didn’t mean you would. Call it a happy accident that it worked out.”

“Remind me again why I’m friends with you?” Éowyn asked as she started to strip and put on her normal clothes.

“Because without me your only gauge for fashion would be Aveline and Merrill and I’d be a poor friend to leave you to that fate. Merrill has a style that’s uniquely her own and I highly suspect that the Guard Captain sleeps in that uniform of hers.”

“That’s unkind. I’ve seen her out of uniform, as have you.”

“If you mean that burial shroud she wore at the last Satinalia party I refuse to--. Maker’s breath, Hawke, just how many times did he kick you?”

Éowyn glanced down and made a sour face at the sunset color of bruises spread across her waist. “Believe it or not they’re getting better. And don’t worry, he’ll get what’s coming to him, I can guarantee that.”

“It sounds to me like you’re making this personal. Is that wise?”

“He’s the one who made it personal. I’m just returning the favor,” she said as she finished buttoning up her shirt. Éowyn looked at Isabela, defying her to say anything.

“You go kick his ass, I’ll find you shoes for your dress.”

* * *

Two hours later Éowyn was sitting in what had to be the dustiest room of city records, wishing she had better light. A dim light bulb overhead swung slightly in near stale air and she could feel a slight headache was building behind her eyes. Not all of it was from the lack of proper lighting however. She’d gone through dozens of files, starting with the known victims before moving onto missing persons.

So many people missing, people of all ages, sexes, and races, gone, just gone. The piles in front of her represented just the last three years, she didn’t want to think about how many total there were over the years since they started keeping records. This city had a way of eating people up. Whether they disappeared into the bowels of the undercity, fell in the wrong way with any of the city’s numerous gangs that ruled here, or sucked into the religious fanaticism that some of the more radical members of the Chantry promoted, people got lost. She’d helped to find some of them in the past but even with that knowledge and experience she’d had no idea of just how many people went missing. She didn’t even want to think about the ones who were just forgotten as if they never existed. The ones where no report was ever made.

She’d been able to make two connections though. Possible ones anyway. She culled two files out of the stack whose profiles matched what she remembered seeing in the warehouse. It wasn’t an absolute certainty, not until she was able to compare the files here with the photos from the warehouse but there were enough similarities that she’d be willing to stake her reputation that she’d found two more of the killer’s victims.

And so she added two more names to her list: Annabelle Bryant and Hazel West. Two more people who needed justice.

Sighing, she pulled another file from the stack. Her notebook was over half full with notes and her hand was beginning to cramp. This would be so much easier if they would just let her take the files so she could go through them at a more sane and leisurely pace back at her office but there was no way in hell that Aveline was going to allow that, civilian consultant or no. If only there was a way she could just copy the files and sneak them out. She knew the guard house had a mimeograph machine but again she ran into the problem of access.

It did not help in the least that she was somewhat distracted. Her mind kept drifting back to the night before and then she’d have to snap herself back to the present. She didn’t have time to dwell on the possibilities and maybes of what could or couldn’t happen.

“Ah, ma’am? Guard-Captain Vallen said you wanted to see these? When they were ready?”

Éowyn looked up and tried not to scowl at the sixteen-year-old masquerading as a guard member. The kid had patchy peach fuzz on his face, probably grown in an attempt to make himself seem older. His uniform was even more starched than Aveline’s if that was possible.

“The coroner's reports. Of all the older ones. The coroner’s still,” he gulped, his skin taking on a slightly green tinge to it. He must have just come from the coroner based on the amount of sweat dripping down his face. “She’s still working on the last one.”

“Just put them on the table there, I’ll get to them after I finish this.” The young guard set them down as if they were going to explode before stepping back. Éowyn raised an eyebrow, watching him as he stood there fiddling with the buttons on his cuffs.

“Something I can help you with, guardsman?”

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but are you really looking into finding the Mermaid Killer?”

Éowyn clenched her fingers around her pencil tightly before having consciously loosen her grip. She looked up at the young guard again, eyes narrowed as she wondered what his motivation was for asking.

“As you just gave me a stack of coroner’s reports on the women killed I think it’s safe to say that the answer to your question is yes, guardsman.”

“Oh, I, I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just,” he sighed, taking a moment to collect himself. “I’m assigned to patrol in Lowtown and people talk. They’re scared Miss Hawke. They think that they or a loved one will be next and they don’t think the guard will help them. A lot are angry.”

“Angry? Angry how?”

“Ah, well, one lady stopped me in the street this morning and said that the only reason the guard was doing anything now was because a rich lady was killed.” He cleared his throat and stood up a bit straighter as if he was making a report to a superior officer. Éowyn had to bite the inside of her lip to not smile. “And she wasn’t the only one. Even before last night things were stirring up. The heat’s not helping.”

She couldn’t disagree with that. Even in this remote area of the guardhouse the heat got in, it was like being in a literal brick oven. “No, it’s not.” She looked closer at him. “I know you, don’t I? What’s your name?”

“Oh, sorry, it’s Keran, ma’am. We, uh, met briefly when you were in the hospital. Knight Captain Rutherford had me escort out that reporter.”

Éowyn scowled at the memory. Idunna hadn’t bothered her since then but she was sure it was only a matter of time before the snake showed up again. The woman wasn’t afraid to print her theories in the rag she worked for. Shaking off the thought, Éowyn looked closer at the guardsman. His guard uniform, besides having been starched within an inch of its life was new, like off the rack new.

“I see,” she said slowly, trying to put the pieces together. If he’d been with Rutherford that meant he was a templar but here he was now in a city guard uniform. Weird.

“I don’t mean to be a bother you and all, ma’am, honest. I just, it would give people some peace of mind to know that something’s finally being done.” His face paled slightly as he realized what he said and remembering who he was talking to. “I mean no disrespect to the Guard Captain, I swear, I’m just repeating what people have told me.”

Éowyn held up her hand. “I’m not insinuating anything of the kind,” she paused, tilting her head to the side. “If you normally work Lowtown why are you up here in the Keep?”

“Ah, right, yeah. See, I was first on the scene last night and the Guard Captain thought it best that I stick to the Keep today. I think she wanted to make sure none of the vultures, her words, got their claws into me.”

“You were at the scene? Saw the body? Spoke with the kids who found her?” Éowyn’s questions came out rapid fire as if out of a machine gun. She stuffed the coroner’s files into her bag, hoping that Aveline would forgive her. “Get you coat or whatever. We’re going on a little field trip.”

* * *

Calling the area where the killer had dumped Ninette de Carrac’s body a pool and recreation area was being overly generous. Weeds clawed their way through the cracks that fractured the cement that surrounded the pool. The pool itself was a crooked rectangle filled with water that smelled like it was more chlorine than water, forcing Éowyn to take shallow breaths. A squat cement bunker housed bathrooms, shower heads sprouting from the exterior walls. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if only a trickle of water came out of the shower heads. The city council was loath to spend money on places like this, especially the father away from Hightown they were.

The guard barricades were still up, a half-hearted attempt to keep the curious and morbid away from the crime scene. Not that there was much to see. They’d taken away Ninette’s body long before dawn along with any evidence they could link to her. It was probably the cleanest the pool had been since the city had built it ten years ago.

Keran stood next to her, sweating in his heavy uniform. She had pumped as much information out of him as she could as she dragged him out of the guard house and down to Lowtown, ignoring his protests about leaving his post.

He had wisely kept his mouth shut about the files that she had taken.

“Aveline put you on desk duty for a reason and I’m guessing it’s this,” she’d said. “I would have found out eventually that you were there, just think of it as her way of being efficient. And as you’ll come to learn, Aveline loves few things more than efficiency.”

Now, standing on the baked cement of the pool area, she closed her eyes and pictured the scene as it had been last night. A six foot high fence surrounded the pool area, the gate locked with a sturdy padlock. Or had been. The killer had taken bolt cutters to it to get in and had replaced the lock after he was done to make it look at if it was still locked; probably an effort to delay people finding the body. He hadn’t anticipated teenage shenanigans though.

The kids had jumped the fence, she thought, most likely in the least lighted area. They probably hadn’t seen the body floating in the water, not at first. Slightly drunk on booze they’d stolen from their parents, giggling like the mischievous teenagers they were, they were more focused on a bit of fun than whatever might be waiting for them in the water. Hot and sweaty from the day, they stripped down to their knickers, jumping in the water. It was then they found the body. Maybe landing her, maybe not, but they definitely found her and would never be the same.

The killer had changed his pattern in dumping Ninette here. The question was why. Putting his victims in the harbor had been smart. It delayed the discovery of the bodies, if they ever were found, and also helped to make identifying his victims difficult and near to impossible due to the conditions they were exposed to depending how long they were in the water. Not to mention that by using the harbor he had almost been guaranteed that no one would see him. He had taken a great risk in using the pool. While not a heavily trafficked area, it wasn’t abandoned either, even in the darkest hours of the night.

From everything she had learned about the killer it made no sense to risk exposure by doing this. The killer had always been careful and smart. This was neither careful nor smart. It was bold and brash and arrogant. He had already proved to be arrogant when he left those photos for her in the warehouse but this was different. This was reckless.

“The gate was closed when you got here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, confirming her theory. “The kids jumped the fence,” he said, confirming her theory. “Didn’t even bother to check if the gate was open.”

“Well, why would they? Where’s the fun in sneaking in a place if the door’s open,” she said, opening her eyes. Looking closer at the area she noticed that several of the lights around the pool were smashed. “Did the kids say if the lights were out when they broke in?”

“Not that I recall, no, but the place isn’t well lit to begin with.”

Éowyn walked over to one of the light poles and crouched down, carefully poking her fingers at the ground, finding tiny shards of glass lying on the concrete. Looking up she saw the shattered lamp shell above her and in looking at the other lights she saw that they had suffered the same fate. It could just be teenage shenanigans or the killer ensuring privacy or they could have been broken for weeks and the city just hadn’t fixed them. Until she asked around it was anyone’s guess as to which one it was. While she was willing to entertain the possibility that Kirkwall’s infamous high winds had caused the damage it would be a hell of a coincidence that the lights at this particular pool had been damaged. She added tracking down the maintenance crew of people she needed to talk with to her list.

“Something doesn’t feel right. I can’t put my finger on it but something’s off. He’s kept to the shadows till now and that’s worked for him so why change his tactics? These assholes are very particular in their routines and rituals,” she mused, pacing the concrete that bordered the pool. The killer had kept with the water theme but she couldn’t get over the fact that he’d chosen a pool in the middle of the fucking city. Why risk getting caught? If it weren’t for the wounds on Ninette’s body she’d think it was someone else, another killer.

Unless.

“Keran, how much do you know about this case?”

“Ah, not much ma’am. Not much more than what I read in the papers. I only recently joined the guard.”

Éowyn gave him an appraising look. “About a week if I remember correctly. You were wearing a templar uniform the last time I saw you,” she said when he gave her a surprised look. “I was under the impression that signing up with the templars was a lifelong commitment involving blood pacts and sacrificing your soul.”

Keran stiffened, clearing his throat. “Joining the order is not something to be taken lightly but there are no blood pacts.”

“Relax, guardsman, it was a joke,” she paused, tilting her head to the side. “Why did you leave?”

“I, uh, disagreed with some of the initiatives the Knight Commander was putting forth. A lot of them, in fact.” He shifted on his feet and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Some of the ideas she has for the city, about the people, they’re just wrong. She has particular opinions about certain people.”

“I am well aware of the Knight Commander’s _opinions_ regarding the Ferelden refugees and anyone else who doesn’t fall in her narrow definition of “good people”. So you got kicked out for having a mind of your own?”

Keran laughed bitterly. “You could say that. Spoke up out of turn one too many times. Knight Captain Rutherford tried to help me keep my job but once the Knight Commander made a decision that was it.” He looked down at his feet, kicking a stone across the pool yard. “I wanted to make a difference and I thought that joining the templars would help me do that. I’m lucky that Guard Captain Vallen hired me. My sister’s sick and relies on me for support; I don’t know what we would have done if I hadn’t joined the guard.”

“Aveline knows good people when she sees them. The fact that you stood up to Stannard proves that and I’m guessing was a big factor in her decision to hire you.”

His cheeks flushed and Éowyn guessed that he wasn’t used to positive feedback. With Stannard as his boss that didn’t surprise her in the least. She’d only met her briefly in passing but it had been more than enough to know that she never want to deal with the woman ever again.

Turning her mind back to the case she considered the pool area again. Ideas were swirling in her mind but she needed to let them percolate awhile before she could move forward with them. She couldn’t afford to be wrong. The stakes were too high.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, ma’am,” he asked as she put away her camera.

She gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, you can stop calling me ma’am. Save those for Aveline.”

“I’ll try, ma’am, ah Miss Hawke.”

“See, progress already,” she said, patting him on the arm. “Thank you for your help, Keran. I’ll let you get back to the guardhouse. I hope Aveline takes you off desk duty soon. We need good guards in this city and you seem to be one of the good ones.”

“I hope to be,” he said, giving her a sheepish grin. “Guard Captain Vallen’s tough but fair.”

“That she is. You should ask her to assign you to Lieutenant Hendyr, you couldn’t ask for a better trainer.”

Keran paled slightly at her words. “The Guard Captain’s husband? Oh, I don’t know, ma’am, I wouldn’t want to overstep. And I just started.”

“It’s called taking initiative. Listen to me, she wouldn’t have hired you if she didn’t see potential. Aveline doesn’t hire idiots and you don’t strike me as an idiot,” she said, smiling as they left the pool enclosure and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Traffic whizzed by them, the afternoon rush to get home or the closest watering hole just starting. Hot wind scoured the city and she found herself missing the misty Ferelden mornings of her youth. Hell, she’d even take the dreary and damp days of spring over this heat. Anything for a break.

“This Maker damned season can’t end soon enough for me,” she grumbled. “Thanks for your time Keran, you were of great help.”

“It was my pleasure, ma’am. I’d heard rumors about how you work.” He gave her a shy smile. “It’s good to see that only about half are true.”

Éowyn laughed. “Only half? Guess I’ll have to work on that.”

A sudden gust of wind whipped around her, blowing her hair in her face. A car horn blared and she looked up just in time to see a rusty truck jump the curve and barrel straight towards her. Keran grabbed her arm and pulled her back just in time to stop her from needing another trip to the hospital. Or the morgue considering how close the truck came to hitting her.

Heart pounding, she stared after the truck as it swerved through traffic, speeding away. Her hands shook as she pushed her hair off her face. She didn’t get more than an impression of the truck and none of the driver.

“Are you okay?” Keran asked, holding her steady as if making sure that she didn’t collapse.

“I’m fine,” she breathed out. “Just a little shook. Some people should never be allowed a license to drive.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can’t believe he jumped the curve like that. You could have been killed.”

“I’m sure. Asshole was probably drunk. I just hope he gets to where he’s going before he does kill someone.”

“He straightened out after he jumped the curve here. Wherever he was going he was sure in a hurry.”

“Yeah,” Éowyn said, frowning in the direction of where the truck had disappeared to. She’d done a fair amount of aggressive driving in her day but she’d managed to keep her car on the street if not necessarily in one piece. It wasn’t unheard of for someone to jump the curve but it did take some effort. “I’m sure that’s what it was. You better get back to the guard house. Remember what I said about asking to be assigned to Hendyr. He won’t steer you wrong.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will. Thank you,” he said and Éowyn swore he was an inch away from saluting her before he turned and walked away. He moved quickly through the foot traffic, giving a nod and a smile to those he passed. The kid had an easy way with people and she couldn’t help but envy him a little for that. He’d do well in Lowtown once some of the green rubbed off him and judging by the way people reacted to him he was well on his way.

Éowyn shifted her bag more securely on her shoulder and headed back to the trolley station, ignoring her aching body. Her day was far from over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> I know it's been a while since I posted and I'm sorry for that. My New Year's resolution is to post a chapter a week. I already have some in reserve so I have a buffer. 
> 
> Thanks to you all who've stuck with me and for your patience. And a big thanks to all who have left kudos and/or commented. It really means a lot.
> 
> You can find me over on tumblr (until it implodes anyway) at scahill42. There be nerdy shit there. Feel free to drop me a line. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Éowyn hated the trek to the Circle as it was the truest exercise in patience she’d ever been forced to endure. She’d only been there a few times before and made a conscious effort to avoid the place. There was no direct route to get there and you had to pass by templar headquarters and the Gallows, a place she least like to be near. The templars and the Circle had been closely entwined since its inception but she couldn’t fathom trying to learn something with the ever watchful eye of Meredith Stannard and her templars. That close relationship unnerved her. The Circle wasn’t the only college with ties to the Chantry, far from it, but it was the only one that she knew of that had what was essentially the military arm of the Chantry so closely involved in the day-to-day operations. 

Students were scattered across the campus, some with the glazed apathy of longtime students while others had a manic expression of those who had over-imbibed in coffee and perhaps other stimulants. And then there were those who she assumed were first years looking like lost sheep with no one to herd them. She spied a couple of students lounging on the steps of one of the buildings, idly passing a cigarette back and forth in open defiance of the school rules against on-campus drinking and smoking. Éowyn had difficulty understanding why anyone would want to go here with it’s strict rules and regulations and curfews. The Circle seemed more like a prison than a place of learning.

_ This is what happens when you let Meredith and her austerity measures run rampant _ , she thought sourly. In addition to being the commander of the Kirkwall templars, the Meredith Stannard had managed to worm her way onto the regent's board and pushed “reforms” that mirrored the ones she put before the city council. How Merrill with her tender heart and free spirit had lasted here a semester she would never know.

The Circle’s medical college was located on the far end of the campus, housed in what had to be one of the tallest and oldest buildings in all of Kirkwall. It had a vague gothic feel to it and she idly wondered what skeletons it had buried within its walls, both literal and figurative. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if more than one illegal experiment had happened within its walls. Nor would she be surprised to learn that it was haunted.

Its main tower cast a long shadow over the square and Éowyn felt a chill run through her as she mounted the stairs. With each step she could feel the age of the building and the ghosts it held. She had just reached the top stair when the doors burst open and a gaggle of students lurched down the stairs, forcing her to step to the side lest she get run over. Several blinked as they stepped into the bright sunlight, as if they hadn’t been outside in days. As they probably were medical students that was entirely possible; she’d heard more than her fair share of stories from Anders describing his time in school as well as the residency he went through after before he came to Kirkwall. 

Letting out a tired sigh she opened the door and hoped that coming here wouldn’t be a waste of her time. She had no contacts here, none that she trusted anyway, only the name that Sebastian had given her. She knew that Quentin taught some classes here and she could only pray that she didn’t have to interact with him. He had managed to worm his way back into her mother’s good graces and she couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t going to end well.

The main entranceway arched above her at sharp angles while tall, slim windows filtered in the afternoon sun. It was oddly cool in the building, as if it held some power to keep the heat out. Her skin pebbled as she walked over to the reception desk and she had to suppress a shudder. This place was worse than going to the hospital.

And there was a cadaver masquerading as a receptionist at the front desk who looked like he’d been sitting there since the Circle had been founded.

“If you’re here for orientation you are about eight hours too late,” said the cadaver, glaring at her over half-rimmed spectacles. “Not the best way to start off the school year, young lady.”

“It’s a good thing that I’m not a student then, isn’t it. I’m here to see Professor Solivitus.”

If anything the cadaver’s eyes narrowed even more. “It is outside of office hours for the professors. You will just have to come back tomorrow,” he said, gesturing to the door.

“Ah see, that doesn’t work for me. The professor’s expecting me, you see, so if you’ll just point me in his direction I’ll,” Éowyn paused, looking over the man’s nearly bald pate, debated for about a half second on how to proceed and gave into the imp that sat on her shoulder. “I’ll get out of your hair and you can go back to scowling at underclassmen and writing down their imagined sins.”

“Now see here, I do not appreciate-.”

“I’m sure you don’t. Just as I don’t appreciate having my time wasted. I have an appointment. Ring him up and let him know I’m here if you think I’m lying.”

The cadaver sniffed and reached out his bony hand for the phone. Éowyn leaned against the counter, taking a page from Isabela’s book and idly inspected her nails while she waited. She’d dealt with self-important pricks like this one before and had no patience for them.

The conversation didn’t last long. Less than a minute passed between him picking up the phone and relaying the information before his pasty face flushed red and his already thin lips pressed together.

“Professor Solivitus’ office is on the lower floor. Take the elevator down and then turn left. His office will be at the end of the hallway,” he said stiffly, somehow managing to look down his nose at her from his seated position. “I remind you that this is a place of learning not-.”

“Elevator down, take a left down the hallway. Got it,” she said, turning her back on him midway through his sentence. She knew she was being rude but at the moment she didn’t care. The clock was ticking and if the killer hadn’t already taken his next victim, she was certainly in his sights. He was escalating and needed to be stopped and she didn’t have the time nor inclination for niceties; especially to self-important cadavers that didn’t have the decency to stay in the grave where they belonged.

She punched the button for the elevator, eyeing it suspiciously when the doors creaked open. Like the rest of the building, it looked ancient, maybe even one of the first in the city. She stood in the middle of the elevator and tried to ignore the creaks and groans it made as the car descended to the floor below.

The elevator car light flickered as it came to a jerky stop and Éowyn vowed that she would take the stairs up when she left. It wasn’t that she was scared of elevators, she just had doubts to the structural integrity of this particular one.

“Maker, please don’t let this be a waste of my time.”

The doors opened and she was immediately hit with the damp, musty smell one only found in basements. Light from the elevator struck a stark rectangle of light out into the hallway. Stepping out she was greeted with a long, dimly lit corridor. She thought she heard laughter but it could have also been a cat yowl. It was difficult to tell with the way sound bounced off the walls. In the far distance she could swear she could hear the faint strains of what sounded like opera or something like it.

“Of course his office is in the basement. Where else would it be?” she muttered as she turned left, keeping to the center of the crowder corridor, not wanting to touch the walls and the suspect substance coating them. Large crates filled with Maker knew what lined the corridor, some piled haphazardly on top of each other. It was probably, hopefully, just full of paperwork or something like that but she could have sworn one of them was leaking… something.

“Yep, this is how I’m going to die, wandering the bowels of what is a most likely haunted medical school. Stellar job, Hawke. Hope my friends remember me fondly.”

The hallway gradually became brighter as she came to the end and she could more clearly hear the music from before, only now she could hear someone singing along to it. The door was cracked open, a warm light spilling into the hallway. Éowyn slowly pushed it open and stood there dumbfounded as she watched a man who could only be Professor Solivitus singing along to the music while mixing chemicals with a gusto that matched Jethann on a Saturday night at The Blooming Rose. The difference being that Jethann never took to the stage with anything stronger than an Old Fashioned. And while Fenris could mix a mean drink, Éowyn was pretty sure that very few of them had the potential to level a building.

It wasn’t just the singing though, he was wearing what was either a jester’s costume, or, and infinitely more terrifying, an old-fashioned clown costume, the kind one might see at a carnival, circus, or rush week at a fraternity. He even had a hat covered in tiny bells that jingled with his every movement.  Éowyn surmised that Professor Solivitus was either the most loved or the most ridiculed professor in the entire school.

She debated the wisdom of interrupting a man who, if he dropped a vial could potentially blow up his lab at minimum, the entire building at worst, but was saved from having to make that decision when he spun around and spied her standing in the doorway. A large smile spread across his face, his cheeks flushed from exertion. He set the beakers down and rounded the counter, the bells on his hat jingling as he approached.

“Miss Hawke! I’m so happy to finally meet your acquaintance. Your reputation precedes you of course.” He engulfed her hand in his large one, shaking it enthusiastically. 

Éowyn didn’t bother to hide her surprise. Or her caution. “You’ve heard of me?”

“But of course! There aren’t many in Kirkwall who haven’t. You’ve made quite a name for yourself. Here, let me get the music so we can have a nice chat.” Solivitus swirled around, light on his feet as he walked over to an old fashioned phonograph, carefully lifting the needle from the vinyl record. He spun back to her, a bright smile on his face. “Would you like anything to drink? I have just about anything you could ask for down here.”

Éowyn ran an uneasy eye over the counters and shelves full of mysterious concoctions and felt she was more than justified in turning down his offer of a beverage. “Ah, that’s okay. I’m just here for some information and then I’ll let you get back to your work.”

“Nonsense, a little refreshment will do you good. Especially in this beastly weather.” He slid her a glance as he pulled a couple of sodas out of a small icebox. “I also have it on good authority that you tend to skip meals and such. Though she’d probably prefer I give you milk.”

_ Merrill, you tattletale _ , she thought and wondered just how her friend knew the professor.

“Merrill’s a dear girl but her sense of direction is not her strongest trait. She wandered down here one day thinking to find art supplies,” he said, shaking his head fondly before taking a long drink from his bottle. “I of course recognized her from The Hanged Man but you are not here for that. You’re wanting to know about what mysterious concoctions and noxious chemicals are used to preserve a human body.”

Éowyn swallowed her annoyance. Sebastian had been rather chatty it would seem. She knew he was just trying to help but sometimes her job required the element of surprise, the ability to catch people off guard in order for her to get an honest answer out of them. It remained to be seen if the good professor would be straight with her or not.

“In a word, yes. I would think that such chemicals would be regulated.”

“In a perfect world, yes,” he said as he leveraged himself onto a stool. “Some of the more volatile stuff is catalogued and tracked but that doesn’t stop homebrewers from making their own.”

“People can make this in their own homes?”

“If you know the recipe, sure, and can get the ingredients which just takes asking the right people. You remember that incident in Darktown a couple of years ago where an entire quarter had to be evacuated? A former student of mine decided to expand his horizons and branch out. Normally I encourage forward thinking and taking initiative but not recklessly.” His face darkened before he spoke again. “His recklessness put dozens of people in the hospital. At least three people died.

“I’ve been devoted to science my entire life, Miss Hawke, and to see it twisted to dark purposes sickens me. Anything I can do to help you catch this monster stalking the streets of Kirkwall I’ll do it.”

“I appreciate that. What type of chemicals are we talking about? And if one were to get them through less than legal means, where would they go?”

Éowyn spent the next twenty minutes listening to Solivitus as he outlined the ingredients for a preserving medium and among other things. As he talked he became more animated, more like the man she’d met upon entering the room. It was clear that he loved his work, loved science itself, and knowing that someone was perverting it like the killer offended him on a deep level.

“Science should enrich life, to serve those around it, not what my former student or this killer is doing. I’ll admit to asking the question ‘I wonder what happens if we do this?’, every good scientist does, but I know where the line is. Sadly, not all hold to that standard.” He frowned, his expression turning melancholy before hardening. “These times we live in, they’re hard. People have become hard. Compassion, wonder, innocence, these concepts are not held in high regard. They are seen as weaknesses, something to be taken advantage of and our world is poorer for it. If only more of us valued good cheer and good over power and fear.

“Bah, but you didn’t come here to hear the ramblings of an old man pining for a better world. I do hope the information I’ve given you is useful.”

Éowyn closed her notebook, hoping the same. “It narrows down the list of people who could be the killer. If what you say is true, it takes a certain amount of skill to mix these chemicals and my guess is that is a skill not easily learned.”

“Not if they want to do it right and keep their lab intact. I’ve seen it happen.”

“I’m sure,” she said, tucking her notebook into her bag. She held out her hand to him. “Thank you for your time, Professor. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh nonsense. I just hope that my little part will help. The sooner the killer is off the streets and behind bars the better. I worry for my students. And for Kirkwall.”

“As do I, Professor.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and made to leave but one question kept nagging at her. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. What’s up with the outfit?”

Solivitus blinked slowly before she gave her a somewhat sheepish grin. “This? Opera is a bit of a hobby of mine, though to call it a hobby seems sacrilegious. I find it keeps my brain nimble at my age. I have a group of friends and we put on performances once a month. This month we’re doing a little production of Ruggero Leoncavallo’s  _ Pagliacci _ with me portraying the titular role. I’m quite nervous about it actually, so I practice when I can.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. I know very little about opera but from what I heard you’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“You are very kind, Miss Hawke, very kind.”

“Just honest. Thanks again, Professor.”

Éowyn left him, hearing the first notes of the opera piece starting to play again as she walked back down the hallway. After having met him the basement didn’t seem quite as creepy anymore. Sort of. She would still not want to be down here in the dead of night. Who knew what lurked elsewhere in more darkened corners.

The cadaver man was still sitting at the desk when she exited the elevator. He glared at her over the rim of his spectacles as she passed. Feeling smug, she smirked at him before pushing open the double doors and into the evening air and immediately felt the weight of the heat settling back on her. The time she’d spent in Solivitus’ lab had nearly made her forget the furnace that was Kirkwall in the late summer.

The campus was quiet as she walked through, the only presence being templar guards stationed about the campus, watching all those present with a careful eye. Éowyn watched them back, refusing to be cowed by them. She knew that not all associated with the Chantry and the Templar Order were bad, but she had enough interactions with them to be wary. The organization was rotten at its core with more than one sister and Grand Cleric willing to push aside the tenants allegedly put forth by the Maker and Andraste; people all to willing to twist those words and use them for their own purposes and gain. She’d never met Grand Cleric Elthina herself but the fact that she sat back and let Knight-Commander Stannard push her so-called reforms forward and essentially turned a blind eye to those who needed help most did not endear the woman to her. She knew that Sebastian felt a connection with the Grand Cleric, that he felt he owed her for saving him from his so-called wicked ways but there was a part of her that couldn’t help but wonder if she was using him. Who better to help line the Chantry coffers than one of the last members of a prestigious and religious family with deep pockets.

Some would call her thoughts uncharitable but Éowyn had learned to listen to her gut as it had rarely turned her wrong. If she ever crossed paths with the woman she would give her a fair shake, she owed Sebastian that much, but she’d keep her guard up. She and the rest of her family had been on the wrong end of the Chantry’s charity too many times for her to trust them as an organization.

What was it that her father said? Religion is good in theory but when you toss people into the mix, it is all too easily corrupted.  

As she passed through the gates Éowyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It wasn’t just the heat that was oppressive but just being so close to the templar headquarters period. She couldn’t really put her finger on it besides the fact that the place gave her the creeps.

The city was uncharacteristically quiet as she travelled back to her office. The trolley she took had seen better days, working its way herkily-jerky toward Lowtown, the driver seemingly apathetic to his customers comfort. After one particularly jarring stop in where her ribs got up close and personal with the back of a bench Éowyn decided that she’d had enough and hoofed it the last five blocks to her office. Her shirt was drenched in sweat by the time she reached the building, it sticking to her like a second, slimy skin.  Wiping the sweat from her face, she stood for a moment in the lobby, staring at the out of order sign hung haphazardly on the elevator before letting out a string of muttered curses as she headed for the stairs.

It was only a couple of flights but she felt as if she might as well be climbing to the top of the highest peak of Sundermount with the way her body was protesting. She needed to rest and refuel before her body forced her to. She’d made a dent today but there was still a lot of work to do, namely the unappetizing task of going through the coroner’s files she’d taken from the guardhouse. Aveline wasn’t going to be happy if and when she found out but Éowyn figured she’d deal with the fallout if it came. Maker willing she’d be able to return the files before that happened.

Her mind was occupied with what may or may not be in her refrigerator that she could scrape together for dinner so she didn’t immediately see the trio of people waiting outside her office door. Neither looked like they belonged within twenty blocks of her building but only one of them made her eye twitch. As she approached, Osric’s flushed with relief, his arms full with a garment bag and a box filled with Maker knew what, but she was pretty sure his relief didn’t have anything to do with delivering the packages but more the woman who stood next to him.

Why in the blue fuck was the Grand Cleric cooling her heels outside her office? 

Osric nearly sagged with relief when he saw her before darting an uneasy glance at the other two occupants in the hallway. The Grand Cleric carried herself as if the dirt and muck of the world didn’t affect her and Éowyn couldn’t help but wonder about the day that it did. Her guard was giving her the hairy eyeball, holding himself in such a way that she could tell that if she made the wrong move he’d strike without mercy. 

“Miss Hawke, Miss Isabela said to bring these over to you. It’s for tomorrow night.” Osric’s words tumbled over each other, a slight stutter rising in his speech. She supposed being caught loitering by the Grand Cleric and her templar guard dog was more than enough to put anyone on edge. Hopefully he 

“Thank you, Osric. I hope you weren’t standing out here too long.”

“Not long. Miss Isabela said to wait until you got home and not leave them out unattended. Not that I would,” he said quickly. “These shiny duds cost a pretty penny I’m sure.”

Éowyn tried not to wince. She hadn’t considered the cost of the dress this morning when she picked it out, something that was out of character for her. Shoving thoughts of money to the back of her mind, she took the dress bag and box of mysterious items before turning to the Grand Cleric. The templar next to her was fuming at her apparent lack of respect for someone of such high office in the Chantry and while she wasn’t being outright rude, Éowyn supposed that addressing Osric first could be seen as insulting. The truth was that she didn’t want Osric to be subjected to whatever the Grand Cleric had come to see her about. Whatever it was Éowyn was sure that it was nothing good. People like Grand Cleric Elthina didn’t descend from their ivory towers without good reason.

“Grand Cleric, what brings you to Lowtown and my door?” she asked, fairly certain that the woman hadn’t come all the way down here for her professional skills.

The older woman cleared her throat, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles from her skirt. “Yes, there is a rather, personal, matter that I wish to discuss with you. One that I’ve been meaning to speak with you about for awhile.”

Éowyn took in a measured breath, forcing herself to remain calm. There was a certain tone in the Grand Cleric’s voice that she didn’t care for. She cared even less for the slight pinched look of disapproval on her face.

“Do you need anything else from me, Miss Hawke?” Osric asked, worrying a hole in his bottom lip. She couldn’t blame the kid for his nerves knowing his background as she did. Poor kid probably thought that he was going to be struck down if the Grand Cleric so much as looked at him sideways.

“No, you can head out. Thanks for bringing these over.”

Osric tipped his cap at her and performed an awkward bow to the Grand Cleric who looked slightly amused at the act and nodded her head to him, accepting it as her due. Éowyn turned her back and juggled the garment bag and box while she dug out her keys and unlocked her door. 

“Don’t be rude, Knight-Corporal, help her with her bags.”

The Knight-Corporal looked like he’d rather shovel pig shit then help her. Éowyn decided that he must be one of Knight-Commander Meredith’s ilk but he did as the Grand Cleric bid, his scowl hidden from the Grand Cleric but not Éowyn. The door open, Éowyn took the garment bag back and laid it on Flora’s desk, careful not to knock anything off.

“Thank you, Knight-Corporal. You can wait outside while Miss Hawke and I have a chat.”

“But Grand Cleric-.”

“I sincerely doubt that anything untoward will happen to me if you take your eyes off me for thirty seconds,” Elthina said firmly. “You can guard me just as well from the otherside of the door.”

The Knight-Corporal looked like he wanted to object further but at the Grand Cleric’s stern look he gave a slight bow and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Éowyn was caught between amusement at the Knight-Corporal’s consternation and a tingling feeling of dread. What could the Grand Cleric possibly want to talk to her about that required privacy?

She waited while the Grand Cleric looked about her office, looking for what Éowyn wasn’t sure but it made her uneasy and annoyed.

“What was this so-called personal matter you wished to discuss?” Éowyn asked, trying to act as if this unprompted and unwelcome visit wasn’t fazing her. She was pretty sure she was pulling it off.

“You have done quite well for yourself since you came here. Most refugees haven’t been as lucky.” Elthina gave her a once over. “You have also built up quite the reputation for helping those less fortunate.”

“Well, someone has to,” Éowyn replied.  _ Seeing as you and your ilk don’t _ , she thought to herself but she had no doubt that the Grand Cleric wouldn’t pick up on the subtext. She wasn’t a stupid woman after all and Éowyn couldn’t help but feel like she was baiting her. For what exactly remained to be seen.

“Indeed. Kirkwall owes you its gratitude for your service.”

“I prefer money over gratitude. Helps keep the lights on.”

The slight pursing of lips was the only indication Éowyn saw that her words hit a nerve.

“Yes, well, I suppose there is that which brings me to the reason for my visit.”

Éowyn crossed her arms over her chest, a kernal of worry sprouting in her gut. Somehow she doubted that Elthina had come here to hire her services. She watched as the other woman walked to the window, gazing out on the city below.

“I am not ignorant to the ills that befall Kirkwall, despite what some people may think. The people of Kirkwall are my flock and I pray for them all.”

_ Prayers only get you so far, _ Éowyn thought, hoping that Elthina got to her point soon as she was afraid that she was going to have a permanent hole in her tongue from biting it to keep from speaking.

“But it is a heavy burden and I need all my brothers and sisters to assist in carrying that burden which is why I need you to convince Sebastian to come back to the Chantry. It is where he belongs.”

The silence that fell in the room was heavy, the only noise the air rushing in Éowyn’s ears. 

“You want me to do what?”

“I want you to tell Sebastian that he needs to abandon this foolish quest to take back his family’s business,” Elthina said, still looking out the window. “I tolerated his absence when he lost his family. It is only natural to have a crisis of faith when faced with such tragedy but it is past time for him to come back into the fold. I need your help to make that happen.

“Sebastian made vows, ones that aren’t taken lightly. He promised to devote his life to the Chantry. To take vows of poverty and chastity to better serve the Maker and his bride. He did good work at the Chantry and can do so much more as a brother than the head of some company.”

“His family’s company,” Éowyn said, barely feeling her nails bite into the palms of her hands as she clenched them tightly. “He also has a duty to them as well.”

Elthina waved her hand, dismissing Éowyn’s words. “The company is in the hands of his cousin; there’s no need to for Sebastian to take up the reigns.”

“Goran Vael is an idiot. Hundreds of people depend on the smooth running of Vael Consolidated and if he stays in charge much longer those people’s livelihoods would be put in jeopardy. You cannot possibly believe that having him stuck in the Chantry is serving the greater good.”

The Grand Cleric finally turned back to her, a mix of disapproval and irritation spreading across her face. “No one is ‘stuck in the Chantry’ as you so crudely put it, Miss Hawke, but it is a calling, one that Sebastian answered.”

“You mean one he was shoved toward because his parents found him embarrassing.”

Elthina at least had the grace to flush at that. “His joining the Chantry wasn’t initially his choice, he was an angry and disillusioned young man, but we gave him purpose, a focus he didn’t have before,” she said, her voice turning harder. “Something he has lost since meeting you.”

Éowyn stared at her, shocked into silence by the Grand Cleric’s words. It had been a while since she had been subjected to the full prejudice of the Chantry.

“I beg your pardon?”

“His misguided quest to retake his family’s company aside, this infatuation of his with you has pulled him even further away from his vows. You have not only blinded him to his purpose but you have put him in harm’s way. That I cannot abide.”

Éowyn took in a slow, measured breath and released it, forcing herself to be calm. Losing her temper would only reinforce the Grand Cleric’s opinion of her.

“I have no claim on Sebastian and have certainly not forced him to do anything he didn’t want to do. He came to me of his own volition to help find the people responsible for his family’s murders. He is also a grown man more than capable of making his own decisions. I tried to keep him away from danger but it came looking for him. I can’t control the actions of others.”

“But you can control your own. This is why I’m asking for your help.”

Éowyn took another breath. “It is not in my nature to manipulate people I care about. I doubt you’ll believe this, but I have not influenced his decision one way or another in regards to taking back his family’s company. Yes I have opinions regarding it and the Chantry, I’ve made no effort to hide that, but in the end it’s his decision. I will not interfere with that.

“As for our relationship, with respect, it is none of your fucking business.”

Elthina inhaled sharply. “I am unaccustomed to being spoken to like that.”

“Well, that’s what you get for talking with a Ferelden dog lord I suppose. We’re all crude and barely deserving of the Chantry’s charity, what little the refugees do get,” Éowyn paused, attempting to collect herself. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Perhaps you are right. I can see now that there is no benefit in trying to talk sense into you. Perhaps Sebastian will be more amenable.”

“Good luck with that, your Grace. Sebastian is his own person and is capable of making his own decisions without being manipulated into a result. Though it goes against my every fiber, I will not mention this conversation to him. I probably should, but I won’t,” Éowyn said as she crossed the room and opened the door. “Have a safe journey back to your ivory tower.”

The Grand Cleric gave her a stiff nod before marching through the door without another word. Éowyn half expect her to say something along the lines that she would regret not going along with her scheme but the only words that passed her lips were to her guard. He gave her a dour look before escorting her down the hallway. Éowyn watched until they turned the corner before shutting the door, flipping the lock with a decisive move. If anyone came wanting her services they would have to wait until tomorrow. Hawke Private Investigations was closed for the day and she needed a drink.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tad rough. Emotionally wise. Just FYI.

Éowyn leaned against the shower wall, pressing her head against the cool tile. Lukewarm water sluiced down her skin, washing away the sweat and dirt of the day. She was exhausted. The bruises on her ribs and stomach had faded to a greenish-brown but she knew that she wasn’t quite back to fighting weight. The killer had done an excellent job in finding all the right places to put his boot and not for the first time she looked eagerly to the time when she could repay him back in kind.

Trickier was the issue with the Grand Cleric and what she had asked, no,  _ demanded _ of her. She had absolutely no intention of doing anything the Grand Cleric had asked her to but the conversation had planted a seed of doubt in her. Was she in some way encouraging Sebastian to not follow his path? He had never talked about going back to the Chantry but then she was very vocal about her displeasure with the organization, so would he really feel comfortable talking with her about it? Sure he had said that he recognized it flaws and how it was failing its people but he hadn’t gone so far as to criticize the Grand Cleric herself. She knew that the woman had filled a mother-type role for him and served as a mentor so there was definitely loyalty there. 

A dark, cold part of her brain whispered to her, asking who he would choose if he had to make a choice. Would he pick her, someone he’d known for a handful of months; someone who, by her very nature, put him in danger or at least adjacent to it? Or would he pick the woman who had served as an anchor for him after he’d been rejected by his family?

She just didn’t know.

She wanted to believe that he would choose her but then she would never force him to make that choice. 

That had to count for something. 

Didn’t it?

Disgusted with herself and the creeping doubt she shut off the shower with more force than necessary and swore as the handle came off in her hand. The showerhead sputtered for a second before blasting near-scalding water at her, forcing her to jump back out of the stream. Her foot started to slip as she slid back, her quick reflexes the only thing preventing her from falling ass over tea kettle but not enough to stop her head from banging against the wall. 

“Fuck me,” she yelped as she climbed out of the shower, gingerly touching her head. She swore again when she pulled away her hand from her head and saw blood staining the tips of her fingers. Grabbing her robe she marched out into the kitchen, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her. Yanking open her junk drawer with probably more force than necessary, she rummaged around for the monkey wrench she could have sworn was in there. 

“Naturally it’s at the bottom,” she grumbled as she pulled it out from where it hid at the back of the drawer under a mound of other junk she’d tossed in there. 

She spent the next several minutes fighting with what was left of the shower knob, letting loose a heavy stream of curses. The sleeves of her robe were soaked by the time she finally managed to shut the water off. Tossing the wrench into the tub, she walked over to the mirror to inspect her newest injury. It wasn’t big but she’d hit the wall with enough force to break the skin. 

“Can’t go a fucking week without getting hurt in some way, can you Hawke?” she said disgustedly as she reached for the washcloth and carefully dabbed at the area. The cut wasn’t deep fortunately but it was definitely going to leave a mark. She rinsed out the washcloth and watched as the blood swirled around the drain. 

“One more scar for the pile.”

Sighing, she tossed her soaked robe over the shower rod and grabbed a towel and the nearly empty glass of whiskey before padding into her bedroom. She drained the last of the whiskey, savoring the sting as it distracted from the pain. After pulling on the nearest nightshirt, she sat on her bed and towel-dried her hair while she contemplated the stack of files she’d dumped there before getting in the shower. She knew she should work in her office and not let work invade her bedroom but it already did that in her dreams so she figured it was pointless to try at this point. Besides, maybe the change in scenery would help spark something. It was worth a shot.

Eleven victims. Unofficially. Nine according to official guard records. Without bodies it was difficult to prove that the other two existed. The only proof was the photographs the killer had left for her in the warehouse. She hadn’t had that much time with them but the faces of all the women were burned into her brain. Not for the first time she wished that she had some drawing talent, to have something she could show people to see if they recognized the two nameless women. Anger burned in her gut that they had been taken and no one had noticed or seemingly cared.

Irritation washed through her as she tossed the towel on the floor, knowing that she was leaving a mess to clean up later and not even caring. That was later. Right now she had a killer to catch.

She spread out the files on each of the victims in a half circle on the floor, plopping herself in the middle. Starting with the first victim she went through each file, looking for something she might have missed. She put blank notecards in the places of the two unknown victims, putting them in the order that the killer had lined up for her in the warehouse. Immediately in front of her she left a spot to mark the file the killer had made about her. A shudder ran through her as she remembered all the photos he had taken of not only her but also of her friends, of people she loved. 

Just as she was stalking him he was doing the same in turn to her. It was not a pleasant thought.

He knew exactly how to hurt her. She didn’t mind if he came after her, she welcomed it in fact. But by leaving those photos of her friends, people she cared deeply about, it meant he had no compunctions about going after them and that she could not abide.

Nobody threatened her friends and loved ones. No one.

If he thought that was going to scare her off he was sorely mistaken. If anything it made her only more determined to stop him.

Time passed, she wasn’t sure how much, but enough to fill out all the notecards she had, forcing her to get up to get more. Her legs tingled as she stood up, feeling that horrible combination of needles stabbing into her skin and numbness that told her she’d been sitting in one position for too long.

Her mind rolled through all the facts she’d gathered as walked through her office, hoping the movement would jolt something loose. Now that she had all the victims in front of her and armed with the knowledge that he was taking pieces of them and keeping them she was trying to connect the two together. He never took the same part, with each victim it was always a different part. And why keep them? Well, she knew that part. Killers of this type liked to keep trophies of their victims, something to remind them of the crime, possibly to relive it. But that didn’t feel right to her, she felt like there was a different reason behind it all.

A gurgle rumbled through her stomach, reminding her that it had been a while since she’d eaten. She had grabbed something from a corner store that was forgotten almost as soon as she’d eaten it. Changing course, she walked over to her refrigerator without much hope that there was anything edible in there. It had been a while since she’d gone to the store. In fact, Sebastian had been the one to do it while she had been recovering and it brought a smile to her face imagining him strolling the aisles of the market picking out food for her.  

The refrigerator light cast a white triangle of light across the floor as she opened it. Sitting on the top shelf was a plate upon which sat a sandwich piled high with roast beef and lettuce. Sliced tomatoes sat in a small plastic container next to it, a handwritten note sitting on top. Éowyn reached in and pulled it out, chuckling as she read it.

_ Assemble, add your spicy mustard, and eat this.  Merrill also says to drink milk not coffee or whiskey but I think we both know what you’ll choose. Who am I to tell you what to do? I’m not your mother after all. -Flora _

“Not my mother indeed. And yet you’re ordering me to eat,” she said as she pulled out the half-made sandwich and assembled it to her liking. “And more fool you, I’ve already started on the whiskey.” She debated a moment on whether to continue to defy expectations or not and then decided to not mess with a good thing and poured herself another two fingers of whiskey.

She leaned against the counter as she wolfed down the sandwich, apparently hungrier than she had realized as she made quick work of it, washing it down with the whiskey.

Back in her bedroom she sat back down in the center of the half circle of victims. She sipped on her whiskey and leaned her head back against the edge of the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting her mind wander she traced the cracks that spiderwebbed across the ceiling, idly wondering just how structurally sound the building actually was. 

Taking another sip of whiskey, she closed her eyes and tried to picture the crime scenes in her mind. She’d stared at the photographs and case reports until her eyes felt like they were going to bleed. A little visualization couldn’t hurt.

Eleven victims. Eleven women whose lives had been cut short. Why these women? What made them so special in the mind of the killer? Why the large gaps between the initial killings? Why had he sped up his kills? What was it that he wanted? What was his endgame?

Andraste’s ass this was making her brain hurt. Trying to discover the reason behind it all was exhausting and she was so very tired.

“Does he have to have a purpose? There could be no reason at all. It could be he does it just because he likes it.”

Éowyn opened her eyes and found herself back in the warehouse, eleven shadows standing in a half circle around her. No, not shadows exactly but figures wreathed in shadow. She could make out the general shape and with a sinking heart realized that they were the eleven women the killer had taken. She looked to her side to see Bethany standing next to her, her brows creased in concentration.

“Could be,” she answered, not even blinking at the appearance of her sister. She was a near constant in all her dreams and at this point she was pretty good at recognizing when she was in one. “But I don’t think so. He’s too methodical, too careful to be a thrill killer.”

“He can’t be both?”

Éowyn tilted her head, contemplating. “I’ll allow that it’s a possibility but my gut says no. No, he has a reason for doing this.” She gave her sister a hard stare. “Why are you here? You shouldn’t see things like this.”

“I haunt you just as much as they do, why shouldn’t I be here?”

Before Éowyn could respond, Bethany moved forward and walked among the eleven women. They stood there, silent and still. Her sister reached out and touched the first victim on the shoulder and as she did, the woman’s image became clearer, sharper until she was looking at the face of the first victim. First victim found anyway. Bethany continued down the line, touching each shadow on the should became fully realized. But not whole she realized as she looked closer. Each were missing parts, pieces of themselves that the killer had taken from them.

“What do you see, Sister?” Bethany asked as she came back to stand next to her. Éowyn looked at all the women. They stared back her with vacant gazes, whatever spark they’d had in life that made them who they were dampened to less than embers. 

“Women whose lives were stolen from them. Women who deserve justice.”

“Yes, there is that, but what else do you see?” Bethany persisted.

Éowyn spared her sister a glance. She saw these women’s faces whenever she closed her eyes. What was she missing? Narrowing her eyes, she looked deeper, her heart lurching when she caught it.

It wasn’t what  _ she _ was missing, it was what  _ they _ were missing.

She’d noted it before, how no two victims were missing the same parts but she hadn’t connected the dots before.

“Maker’s breath, I’m an idiot. How did I not see it before? He’s putting the pieces together, isn’t he? Like some macabre meat puzzle.”

Bethany wrinkled her nose. “A rather crude way of putting it but yes. Reminds me of that old story about a doctor building a creature out of parts of corpses.”

“Except our killer is choosing live victims, not grave robbing for bodies. He wants them fresh.” She paused, looking over the women again. “He’s building his own woman from others. That’s his purpose. But why? What’s pushing him to do this?”

“An excellent question, sister dear. Until you catch him you won’t know.”

Éowyn scowled. “ _ If _ I catch him. Despite his recent recklessness he’s a ghost. I may have narrow down the profile but as far as suspects there are none.” She let out a slow, heavy breath and gave voice to a fear she’d had since the first second she’d taken this case. “I don’t know if I can catch him, Bethany. Not before it’s too late. Or ever.”

Bethany laid a hand on her arm, similar to how she had to the women standing in front of her. It was a gesture meant to be supportive but it did little to calm her doubts. She was a PI, a damned good one, but even with the support of Aveline and the city guard she was just one person.

“I thought Fereldens were made of sterner stuff than this. That’s what you say to anyone and everyone who crosses your path anyway. Pathetic.”

Éowyn stared as the last woman in the line stepped forward, her thick Orlesian accent dripping with disdain. The ghost of Ninette de Carrac stepped forward, her skin a greyish-green, her hair falling down her face like limp seaweed. Her eyes were black with a whitish film covering them, like a doll’s eye that had been left out in the cold and damp. The papers called these women the Drowned Mermaids but they were far from the fantastical creatures from the fairy tales of her youth. These were more sorrowful, their expressions filled with pain and fear but also something else, something that had an awful power: anger. An anger so powerful that it demanded not only justice but vengeance and right now Éowyn was the only available target.

“He took everything from us. Our lives, our bodies, our names. Please give them back. We’re not whole without them,” said another one of the women in the line. Her voice was indistinct, like a picture out of focus but with sound, but there was no mistaking the pain and sorrow in her tone.

Behind the eleven women more shadows appeared. More victims. More lost lives. More ghosts.

_ We are lost. Please help us. _

_ Help us. _

_ Give us justice. _

_ Help us. _

More women stepped forward, closing in around her, pleading for her help, begging for justice. Éowyn tried to step back but came up against something solid and immovable. She looked around desperately for Bethany but her sister had faded away into the mist that surrounded them leaving her alone. 

“I’m trying,” she told them. “I’m trying with everything I have.”

_ Not good enough. _

_ Help us. _

_ Justice. _

_ Vengeance. _

_ Help us. Help us. Help us. _

Left with no defense against the horde, she sank to the floor and covered her ears to try and block out the plaintive cries of the women. A futile effort as they swarmed around her, their voices echoing in her head. 

_ I’m trying. Oh Maker, I’m trying. Please stop. _

Something large and rough grabbed the back of her neck, hoisting her into the air. Éowyn clawed at the giant fingers wrapping around her neck, her legs flailing in the open air beneath her. A giant figure held her up, its shrouded face leaning in as if to inspect her. She could smell its fetid breath as it inspected her. The women’s voices continued to echo around her but slowly began to fade as the hand around her neck tightened. Her skin burned cold where its flesh touched hers.

_ “Yoouuu….”  _ it growled before it let out a demonic chuckle. “I’m supposed to fear you? How could someone as weak and pathetic as you stop me? You couldn’t even save your own sister.”

Its sinuous voice coiled and twined around her, digging into her brain and finding her deepest insecurities.

“A mother who resents you for letting your sister die. A brother who ran away rather than live in your shadow. A father whose reputation you struggle to live up to. A city that doesn’t thank you for all the so-called good you’ve done for it. What have you really accomplished, Hawke? You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

Éowyn tried to escape the creature’s grasp but it’s hold was too tight. She tried to block out it’s words but they slashed at her, leaving thousands of tiny cuts across her soul.

“Everyone leaves you Hawke. How long before your friends do? How long before the man who claims to love you leaves? And does he even truly love you? Or are you just a placeholder until someone who is more refined comes along? Or maybe he will realize that his place is in the Chantry and not with you. Regardless of the reason, you will be alone.”

Icy trickles of tears carved paths down her cheeks but it was nothing compared to the cold that started to burn within her.

“What do you really have to offer him, Hawke? A broken shell who can’t help preserve his line even if he did choose you. Where do you think that will lead? Disappointment and resentment. That is the legacy you’ll reap.”

It leaned in closer, its lips mere centimeters away from her ear. Moist breath slid over her skin like a poisonous cloud and she felt herself shrink back. It inhaled deeply, taking pleasure in the stink of fear boiling off her. 

“Alone and cold in the dark and that’s where I’ll be waiting for you.”

Éowyn let out a wail that pierced the near darkness that surrounded her. She desperately sought out light, any light that would save her from this creature but all she found was the all encompassing evil that wanted to consume her.

“Ah, yes, there is it. Fear. give me your fear.”

The hand around her neck squeezed tighter and tiny fireflies of light swam through her vision as the oxygen was cut off from going to her brain. She clawed frantically at the hand but her fingers might as well have been made out of wet noodles for all the good they did. She tried to kick at him, aiming for his midsection but he held her up too far away for her to connect.

“It would be better for you if you just stopped fighting it and give up.”

The world tilted as she flew through the air, but rather than slam into something hard she landed in something soft, something that had several limbs that wrapped around her. Heavy, thick arms pulled her down, down into the cold deep dark. Above her what little light there had been faded and narrowed into near nothing. She tried to scream but one of the arms slid over her face, not only silencing her but blinding her as well.

_ No, no, no, no. Not like this. Please no. _

She managed to get one arm free, her fist finally managing to connect with something, causing the creature holding her to yelp in pain but it wasn’t enough to free her. Cold settled into her bones as voices echoed around her.

She tried to take another swing at the creature but it captured her hand and pulled her close. The voices slowly coalesced into one, arms like hot bands wrapped around her but did nothing to stop the cold and fear that had taken her over.

“Come now,  _ a ghrá _ , come back now.” 

In an instant Éowyn went from struggling to get away to clinging to the lifeline that had been thrown to her. Her entire body ached as if she had really been assaulted like she had been in the nightmare and she trembled from the cold that had invaded her marrow. She huddled in Sebastian’s arms, trying to absorb some of his warmth as she fought off the last dregs of the nightmare. He didn’t say anything besides a few murmured words of support, just held her close and gave her the comfort she so desperately needed.

_ See asshole, I’m not alone. _

She clung to that thought just as tightly as she clung to Sebastian, needing to believe it with every fiber of her soul. Those dark thoughts cleaved to her, their sinuous tendrils worming their way in. It was like being infected with a parasite; an insidious one that made it difficult to know which thoughts were hers and which were from the monster that crouched in dark corners.

_ So cold _ .

“Well, let’s get you warm then. A hot bath perhaps?”

“Shower’s broken,” she mumbled into his shirt.

There was a slight pause. “Then we’ll at least get you off the floor and out of this sweaty nightshirt.”

He scooped her up in his arms with little effort and set her on the bed. His hands hesitated before reaching for her shirt.

“May I?”

Éowyn nodded numbly, too drained to verbalize consent. It was enough that he recognized her vulnerable situation and asked permission. He treated her like a fragile creature as he stripped off the sweaty nightshirt and sponged off the worst of the sweat with the towel she’d left on the floor before slipping a fresh nightshirt over her head. She felt like spun glass, glass that was ready to shatter at any moment. It had been a long time since she’d had a nightmare this bad and overall she’d had fewer that haunted her nights. A part of her had hoped that she had put them behind her but it would seem that her ghosts had other ideas.

“You’ve injured yourself.” His hand hovered over the spot where she had earlier hit her head, brushing her sweaty hair away from the cut.

“The shower and I had a disagreement. I won.” Her voice sounded scratchy and worn, as if she’d been screaming for hours. 

“I see,” he said before leaning forward and pressed a light kiss to it. That simple gesture brought warmth into her veins much more effectively that a scalding shower ever could. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly as he knelt before her, cradling her hands in his.

Éowyn shook her head, not trusting her voice. This was her burden. Besides, there was a part of her that worried that if she gave voice to her nightmares that they might come true. It was a ridiculous and irrational thought and yet there it was. Maybe in the light of day she could talk about it but at that moment the words were behind the wall she erected.

“Ok.” He sounded like he wanted to push but was respectful of her boundaries. It made her love him all the more.

“Ok,” he said again. “In to bed with you then and no argument about that.”

Éowyn gave him a weak smile as she finally looked at him fully. He tried to hide it but she could see the worry behind his eyes. And the love. And in that moment it was impossible to think that he’d ever consider going back to the Chantry.

She reached out and touched his face, in part to comfort him but also to reassure herself that he was real and that this wasn’t some horrible trick her mind had cooked up. To know that she wasn’t still dreaming. He turned his face into her hand, placing a soft kiss to her palm all the while keeping his gaze on her.

Maker’s breath it was terrifying just how much she loved him.

The sheets felt cool against her skin as she lay down, exhaustion taking over and yet she was afraid to close her eyes. It was a common refrain, one that she had repeated countless times over the years and Maker was she ever tired of it. She watched through half closed eyes as Sebastian went about the room, tidying up the files that she had inadvertently kicked to hell and back during her nightmare.

“I didn’t think you’d be back today,” she said softly.

“The meeting ended sooner than I thought. Goran’s suddenly developed a backbone and is standing up to the board. I think it’s finally hit him that his position as head of the company isn’t as secure as he thought it was,” he told her as he set the files on a side table before sitting on the bed next to her. He took up her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “But you don’t need to hear about the mundanities of the corporate boardroom. You should rest.”

“Will you stay? I don’t want to be alone.”

“There’s no other place I’d rather be,  _ mo chridhe _ ,” he said, leaning down and placing a kiss to her forehead. Éowyn grasped his words and held them close, putting them on like armor to protect her against the doubts that the Grand Cleric had planted and the ones that her nightmare had exploited. 

He quickly stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed behind her, the mattress dipping with his weight. Éowyn rolled over and snuggled into his chest, laying her head over his heart. The steady thump-thump was like a balm, a physical reminder that he was real and that he was there.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“For what?”

“For this. For everything.”

Sebastian let out a soft sigh and held her a little closer. “Don’t you ever apologise for this. This is not a hardship for me.  _ You _ are not a hardship for me.”

Éowyn didn’t say anything in response, pressing her face into his chest, the soft hair gently tickling her skin. She inhaled slowly, taking in his scent. Exhaling, she let out all the anxiety and fear the nightmare had brought her, her body and mind finally able to relax.

“You scared me, though. I didn’t think I’d be able to wake you up. You were so far under.”

“Can I apologise for scaring you?”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know. I just don’t like that I scared you.”

“We’ll get through this, Éowyn. We will. If and when you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

“I know. Thank you. I-.”

“Hush, just try to sleep. I’ll fight off any demons who try to attack.”

A slow smile curved up her lips. “Ser Sebastian, my very own knight in shining armor. Who knew.”

“I’ll have you know that I fought and slayed many a dragon in youth.”

Her smile grew a little wider. “And saved a princess or two I assume.”

“A few.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “But none captured my heart like you have.”

Éowyn snorted, starting to feel more like herself. “You sap. I’m hardly a princess and moreover, I can slay my own dragons.”

“Of that I have no doubt. Can I at least hold your coat? Provide moral support?”

She lifted her head and propped up her chin on his chest. “You’re too pretty to be a just coat hanger. We could fight them together. I suppose.”

“Whatever you want, I am at your side,  _ mo chridhe. _ ”

“You are such a sap.”

“One who loves you. Very much so.”

Warmth flooded through her at his words, chasing away the last remnants of cold from her body.

“I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. So I know it's been a while and I'm sorry for that. The hard drive on my computer crashed and burned and I had to send it out to get a brand new hard drive. (pro tip: getting the Geek Squad protection actually benefited as I didn't have to pay for a damn thing). Fortunately they were able to do it. Unfortunately I was without it for almost two weeks, hence the delay. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. Any comments and/or kudos are much appreciated. I'm also (still) over on tumblr at scahill42, so you can drop me a line there too (at least until they fire bomb the hellsite).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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